Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior

Mad Max 2  - aka The Road Warrior

Starring Mel Gibson and Bruce Spence
Co-written and directed by George Miller

Here's one of the less prevalent posters for "Mad Max 2", found online,  Marketing-wise, the film might have suffered something of an identity crisis, as it was re-titled simply "The Road Warrior" for its US release (audiences there probably wouldn't have been familiar with the original "Mad Max" of 1979 as it hadn't been widely received there), and was therefore mostly known by that name. And in retrospect that's no bad thing, because this film, whilst taking place definitively within the world created by the original film, and featuring the same central character, stands perfectly independently as one of the great action adventures of its time.  It's vastly different to the first film too.  With "Mad Max: Fury Road" currently roaring onto screens and tearing up box-offices, it's worth looking back at its origins.

The movie opens with a narrated, potted history of how civilization came to fall apart, and how we arrive at this state of anarchy depicted onscreen, with savage gangs roaming the outback, and survivors desperate to make it.  In the original film, the title card wisely pitted it as "a few years from now."  (I hate it when futuristic movies put a definitive date on their vision, because it's never right.)  So the viewer can heed the warning despite, or because of, the lack of a definite date and time... it just means, this could happen any time soon. This film slyly uses archive, black and white footage of civil unrest in the post WW2 world to depict the crisis which let to the apocalypse in which we have arrived.  It's brilliant, because it clearly projects something non-specific from the past into this imagined future, so doesn't suffer the temporal jar encountered by many dystopian works... it says, this is where we are, the past is messed up, it could have been 1960 or yesterday... but this is our world.  It's such a strong point for the film's environment.

There follows a stunning, wordless, eight-plus minute sequence depicting our anti-hero Max attempting to acquire some petrol (gas) from a ruined tanker which he discovers whilst riding the wilds of the desolate Australia.  He encounters a hostile group of scary, threatening raiders, led by the strikingly red-mohicaned Wez,   Max faces them off, and sees them off, and returns to the road.  But Wez's departing screech commands a future encounter between the two...   Petrol, it's established, is the most valuable commodity around, because it allows for mobility, and the potential escape from the barren world in which the characters find themselves.  Max encounters, is captured by, but shortly outwits an oddball fellow survivor, pilot of an antiquated gyrocopter.  Bruce Spence's portrayal of "Gyro Captain" - latterly named as Jedediah in the film's sequel - is fantastic, full of quirky tics and sly looks behind Max's back, and allows for some of the funniest and most human moments in the film, what with his harlequin multi-coloured costume sprites the screen.  Having taken him captive, Max one night chows down on a tin of dog food, some of which he spares for his dog... Spence's creeping attempts to get some food for himself are at once hysterical and tragic.

The pair happen upon a community which seems to sit upon a petrol refinery; so they are in charge of a huge stock of the most valuable thing around.  Wez's companions, the wasteland raiders, led by a character named "The Humungus" who are intent on a battle to retrieve the gas, and destroy the little community.  There has been some speculation that "Humungus" was actually originally meant to be Steve Bisley's character, Jim Goose, from the original film.  This could have worked, but in the context of this film it's maybe safer to avoid specifics.  The plot, as it were, is essentially threadbare, but that really doesn't matter, because it's a two-part thrill ride which comes completely out of the blue.  The first half of the film is surprisingly bereft of dialogue, it's actually striking how few lines of dialogue Gibson has in the first half of the movie.He is, however, excellent in the part.  Mostly silent, brooding... he does this really neat little thing where he licks his lips, showing he's thinking... it's a great performance.

There are huge amounts of humour in the film too., mostly involving Max's interaction with Jedediah.  There's a brilliant moment when they are both spying on an atrocirty being carried out by our antagonists, Max regarding though a small pair of binoculars, Jed watching through a giant telescope... Max just looks up and grabs the telescope, no questions asked... A smile evoked during a moment of horror.  There's a great deal of silent comedy too, which is perhaps missed on first viewing.

There are so many tiny parts in the film also which give it huge memorability.  Spence, obviously, is the mainstay, as he essentially plays second-fiddle to Gibson's titular character, and plays off as the comedy sidekick to Mel's decidedly dour (and rightly so) straight man.  Most notable is Emil Minty as "the Feral Kid", a tremendously outrageous savage who has associated himself with our band of heroes, and who has a truly awesome line in razor-edged boomerangs (no, really). His guttral grunts of pleasure at an opponents demise are a thing to see.  Mike Preston is grave, serious, and brilliant as Pappagallo,  Vernon Wells' Wez is one of the most memorable villains of 80s Cinema.  And as for Humungus... how can you top a leather-masked microphone-talking bad-guy dressed as a gimp...

Where the film really kicks into gear, however, and takes its opponents to town, is in the final third, when the chase sequence kicks in.  Max relents and decides to rescue the tanker full of fuel from the camp, and undertakes a spectacular mobile battle with his enemies.  This is an exercise in action cinema at its finest.  I can't think that it has been rivaled in the realm of automotive chase sequences ("The Cannonball Run" gets an honourary bye though), unless arguably until this year with another film in the same franchise... .  There are some brilliant set-pieces... as the raiders attack the refinery, the inhabitants defend with spectacular flamethrowers.  The elongated chase scene at the climax is about as spectacular as they come. Miller's direction is unquestionable; Brian May (not that one) provides a score which initially seems excessively melodramatic, but settles in nicely on repeated viewings; and the use of silence on the soundtrack is equally effective.  Perhaps most importantly, the scene created a definitive look.  Cinematographer (and future Oscar Winner) Dean Semler paints a red-brown desert landscape which lives long in the memory.  The budget is obviously limited, and once or twice noticeably so, but what's created is a huge achievement, and the limitations might even have benefited the film, particularly in the area of costume (keep an eye out for a cricket glove on one of the survivors!).  Some comments are thrown around regarding Max's integrity... is he noble and a good man, or is he just wasteland garbage?  It doesn't matter.  He reminds me in a way of Rooster Cogburn in "True Grit".  It adds a dimension to the film which prompts thought.  And it makes it a step above the original, and indeed most adventures of 80s cinema.  Where the film in retrospect seems most inventive nowadays, in light of the current trend of "reboots" is that it takes things from the first "Mad Max" and does something new with them, so it's not really quite a sequel, more of a progression.

Hugely hugely recommended.

The Exorcist

The Exorcist (1973)

Starring Ellen Burstyn and Jason Miller
Directed by William Friedkin

Frequently touted as "the best horror film" or "the scariest movie" of all time, "The Exorcist" brings with it some heavy baggage, not least 2 Academy Awards (for Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Sound) and 5 further nominations, along with 4 Golden Globe wins (including Best Picture).  So looking back at it, over 40 years after its release, one has to cut through the hyperbole and try to assess it on its own terms; it shouldn't be compared to films of the genre made today, or since, or even to its source novel.  

There have been several different versions of the film released over the years.  There was the original, theatrical version, obviously, but subtle tweaks and additions were made over the years, from a toned-down tv version to a 25th Anniversary re-release, to a "Version You've Never Seen", which was released on DVD a few years back.  I think this is the version I watched lately. 

The film opens in Northern Iraq, with a sequence well and truly setting the tone for what is to come; that is, atmospheric, mysterious, and very very slow moving.  It features Catholic Priest Father Lankaster Merrin, working on an archaeological dig, where he uncovers a small carved figure, which reminds him of a pagan demon (we find out in sequels and prequels that he had done battle with this demon before).  The presence of the demon is felt throughout the sequence, even to the extent of seeing a deformed local blacksmith, enigmatically staring at the priest.  We then cut to Georgetown, Washington DC, where a prominent actress, Chris MacNeil (the ever wonderful Ellen Burstyn) is shooting a movie, living away from her home in L.A.  Her 12 year old daughter Regan (Linda Blair) lives with her, her husband is estranged, and in the early scenes Blair is brilliant - charming, funny and everything a 12 year old should be.  But Regan starts to exhibit odd behaviour.  She mentions to Chris that she has played with a Ouija board and contacted a spirit she names "Captain Howdy".  It's never explicitly stated that this is the cause of what's to come, but the implication is clear.  A rather jarring jump in the narrative shows Regan undergoing a series of medical tests, due to her apparent odd behaviour.  The doctors think she might have a lesion on her brain but the tests prove inconclusive, as the strangeness in the house mounts up.  Chris hears strange noises in the attic, and Regan complains of her bed shaking at night.

Parallel to this story, we meet another Catholic Priest, Father Damien Karras (Jason Miller), whom Chris spots a few times at a nearby church.  He is a psychological therapist, and when the medical staff despair of finding a cause for Regan's maladies, they suggest seeking help from a psychologist.  Chris seeks out Father Karras and implores him to help her.  Father Damien is losing his faith, and wants to leave the priesthood.  His ill Mother has recently died, adding to his sorrow and disillusionment.  But Regan is deteriorating, and Chris begins to believe she is possessed by something otherworldly.  Karras is against the idea of exorcism, but his examinations suggest there might be something to that theory.  The two stories are interwoven masterfully, and we come truly to care about the characters.  Karras agrees to attempt an exorcism, but his superior insists he have help from someone with more experience; re-enter Father Merrin.

Friedkin directs with a naturalistic style familiar from "The French Connection".  However, there's a certain amount which sits unwell with the fantastic atmosphere.  The glacial pace sorely tempts one's patience.  And there's the utterly pointless introduction of a homicide detective, Lt. Kinderman, (Lee J. Cobb) who is investigating the mysterious death of the director of the film on which Chris is working, Burke Dennings.  Dennings was with Regan before he fell down a long flight of steps outside the house, breaking his neck.  It's clearly suggested later on that the demon possessing Regan was responsible, but Kinderman adds nothing to the plot.  His questions add up to nothing concrete, and bar an amusing aside with Karras, they yield no evidence.  He just slows proceedings down and I can't understand what his presence adds to the film.  The character was to make a wearisome return in the second sequel in 1990 in "The Exorcist III", played by George C. Scott and based on a mangled version of original author William Peter Blatty's novel "Legion".  He still wasn't worthy of any screen time.

Where the film utterly falls down is in the exorcism scene itself.  It forms the climax of the piece, and is supposed to be the shocking moment which brings things to a head, but it singularly fails to be in any way convincing.  I've read often that folks think that the special effects in the film are amazing. But I disagree. I think that the makeup is brilliant; Blair gurgles and swears under her increasingly rotten looking garb, but in the key scenes, the SFX is just woeful.  The "spider walk" scene, restored for the later release, is simply ludicrous - and it's obvious why it was taken out in the first place.  Nothing can point the finger, though, more than the famous "head turning" scene, which is laughable.  I can't think of a film which has had its gripping sense of atmosphere and mood so utterly destroyed by a bad special effect.  One can't be scared when one is laughing.  Frank Oz, show yourself.  At that moment, one comes out of the film totally, and none of the dramatic resolution to come can be absorbed because things have descended to comedy. The film is also very serious and earnest in its promotion of the Christian religion, portraying as it does the very real notion that demonic possession, and by definition, that the Devil itself is real.  This is a reflection of Blatty's own Catholicism, but it could have been better served.

Leaving aside the exorcism, the direction is solid (even if things do move rather very slowly).  The growing atmosphere of dread is wonderful.  The actors and actresses without exception all turn in fantastic performances.  Burstyn and Miller are great in the central roles, and Max von Sydow performs brilliantly in the small but pivotal role of Merrin.  Linda Blair deserves special mention for playing Regan, she brings a real humanity to a character whom essentially spends three quarters of the film in bed being antisocial, and it's a shame that she was forced into making that sequel.  There are some neat cues throughout in which subliminally suggest the presence of the demon in the house, flashes of a ghostly face here and there. It feels creepy.

As a side note, it seems to me that there is a sly dig at the religion of Islam which is slightly distasteful.  The film finishes and (almost) opens with adhan, the call to prayer.  It seems to suggest that the devilish possession, which arises in a Muslim country, is somehow Islamic in origin.  It's  unfounded and un-necessary.

Whiplash

Whiplash (2014)

Starring Miles Teller and J.K. Simmons
Directed by Damien Chazelle

Amongst the crop of films considered "award worthy" within the last year, "Whiplash" seemed to be somewhat unfairly over-looked in the wake of the quirky but over-rated "Birdman", the essential but maybe-a-bit-too-Downton "The Imitation Game", and the indelibly great years-long achievement of "Boyhood".  For sure, it did win numerous awards, including editing and sound editing at the Academy Awards, and J.K Simmons took home a statue or two for his already iconic performance, but one can't help but feel that this is a timeless movie, to which people will be coming back for years to come.  The film is certainly not as towering as some of the aforementioned in the acts it depicts, but what it does depict is done with gripping power.  Conversely, it's a deep, intense, close-quarter character study of two men's battle of will.  It tells the story of Andrew Neimann (Miles Teller, soon to be seen as Reed Richards aka Mr Fantastic in Fox's "Fantastic Four" reboot), a talented and ambitious young jazz drummer, student at a fictional New York Conservatory of music by day, and listening to Buddy Rich on repeat by night.  One evening, staying late to work on his routine, he catches the ear of famed - infamous - conductor Terence Fletcher (Simmons), stalking the hallways, who invites him to join his prestigious band.  Their exchange marks the opening salvo of a contest which will run and run.  Andrew joins the rehearsals, and finds that Fletcher lives up every bit to his fearsome reputation.  Clutching imagined musical notes from the air with his fist if his robot-like antennae detect that a student has missed a beat, or played a bum note, his sole aim seems to be to subdue his charges to the extent that they either better their work, or give up in subjugation.  "Not my tempo", he barks, whenever a mistake is felt.  Fletcher delights in recounting - and exaggerating - a story of how Charlie Parker was once humiliated by a bandmate, throwing a cymbal at his head when he wasn't up to scratch; Parker went away, and came back as the immortal Bird, arguably the greatest saxophonist there ever was.  In a quiet moment Fletcher elicits some personal information from Andrew, which he later uses to humiliate him in front of the whole band.  Andrew's determination to succeed grows stronger, to potentially damaging lengths, but the question the film raises is whether perfection would be his reward, or Fletcher's triumph.

"Fame" this isn't.

The idea that a film about jazz drumming could be so electrifying, mesmeric, and thrilling, seems faintly ludicrous, and just wouldn't have been my tempo a few months ago.  But "Whiplash" is all of those things.  But then, "Whiplash" isn't a film about jazz.  It's a war film.  With drums and saxophones.  Curiously - or perhaps by design - it's reminiscent of Kubrick's "Full Metal Jacket", with Andrew taking the place of a beleaguered Boot Camp Marine, and Fletcher in the R. Lee Ermey Sgt Hartman role.  Andrew's climactic solo is like a gun battle.  The sense of conflict, in this case mainly psychological, but with physical consequences, is palpable.  The film takes its title from a composition by saxophonist Hank Levy, which gets several partial airings itself.  Music drives the drama, and when the full band is allowed to play more than a few bars, the tracks are fantastic.  But this music isn't joyful.  There's no casual riffing or jamming here, playing for the sheer fun of it.  This is serious business, and the tension can be seen etched on the faces of the students filing in for rehearsal, and silently enduring another of Fletcher's abusive outbursts.  The payoff for this lack of, for want of a better word, fun is that when things go right, the release of that tension is explosive (and there's another war-word,)

The movie is arguably - but not particularly - heavy handed in carrying home the message that one must suffer for art, and for perfection, that the emotional collateral damage affecting performer, friends, and family, is unbearable for all but the most dedicated.  But Chazelle nimbly makes the isolation of these characters visual.  The rehearsal room, the stages on which the band performs, and the very corridors of the Conservatory are dark spaces; characters are bathed in gold or bright white pools of spotlight, often cut off from one another.  Fletcher's "uniform" consists of black trousers and a tight black t-shirt, offset by Andy's slightly brighter wardrobe.  Every scene seems to  take place at night, or in the darkened rehearsal room.  Virtually the only scene which does take place in daylight occurs in a diner, and contains a moment of emotional upset for one character.  This is about light and dark, silence, such as when Fletcher suddenly halts proceedings, as much as music.  Good and evil - or at least nice and not-so-nice. .

Simmons has surely laid to rest the ghost of J. Jonah Jameson with his lauded and awarded turn.  But Teller matches him every step of the way, in a much more understated and less obviously scenery-chewing manner.  I believe he appears in every single scene; it certainly feels like it.  Fletcher gets all the best lines as the villains always do, but Neimann is the quiet, driven heart of the film, a personification of ambition and frustration.  Essentially this is a two-header, but (beyond the other bandmembers) the small ensemble supporting cast are excellent too.  Paul Reiser is warm, touching and concerned as Andy's father; their movie watching sessions together serve as a gentle counterpoint to the fraught atmosphere of the conservatory.  A scene at a family dinner, featuring Suanne Spoke and Chris ("Twin Peaks") Mulkey as Andy's Aunt and Uncle, goes a long way to showing how Andy feels misunderstood and distant from even  his closest relatives.  Despite only appearing in three scenes, Melissa Benoist ("Glee", and forthcoming as "Supergirl") as girlfriend Nicole is particularly impressive, charming and likeable, but ultimately insecure and heartbreaking.

As with any film about any "specialist subject", there are some disgruntled jazz-heads around who seem to miss the point that this is a work of dramatic fiction, and as such an endeavour it is successful.  Moreover, it leaves the viewer with something to take away and ponder.  It ends on an ambiguous note; Fletcher tries once more to humiliate - crush - his pupil, on stage in front of a large, influential audience, but Andy defies him, producing the performance he's been seeking all along.  Having failed to destroy him, Fletcher conducts him up close, nodding and encouraging, reveling in his charge's achievement.  So there is dramatic resolution, catharsis for both characters, after a lengthy, vitriolic journey.  Is Fletcher's approval because he has found what he was looking for all along?  It's a satisfying "feelgood" moment, and without the hugely predictable riotous applause and standing ovation.

It's perfection.

(this is the price of perfection)

The Babadook

The Babadook (2014) 

Starring Essie Davies and Noah Wiseman
Directed by Jennifer Kent 

MILD SPOILER ALERT 

This low budget Australian-made horror doesn't so much take swipes at the established genre, as knowingly eat up chunks of it only to spit out a captivating new take on things.  The unusual, memorable, title is immediately vaguely unsettling, because it doesn't mean anything or give away anything of the content of the film.  The poster drops a few hints of what's in store.  

The film opens with a brief fragment of a dream, of a woman falling; as she lands in her bed she hears a little boy repeatedly calling out "Mum! Mum!" She comes to, to find her son shaking her and trying to wake her.  He's been having bad dreams - again.  It's a disorientating introduction to what will turn out to be an unsettling tale.  The boy, Sam, is a troubled and fearful child; his father was killed in a road accident whilst taking Sam's mother, Amelia, to the hospital to give birth to him.  So their household is one which bears Amelia's stress of having to raise a child on her own, and Sam's fragility and guilt at being fatherless.  Sam is clingy, often waking in the night, sleeping in Amelia's bed, and needing to be read bedtime stories almost constantly.  He's keen on, and an accomplished performer of, magic tricks; but he has a habit of rigging up home-made weapons.  He is disruptive in class at school, which adds greatly to Amelia's stress.

One evening Amelia tells Sam he can choose any book from his shelf as his bedtime story.  He picks one called "Mr. Babadook", which puzzles Amelia as she hasn't seen it before.  It begins:  

"If it's in a word, or it's in a look, you can't get rid of the Babadook.  

If you're a really clever one and you know what it is to see, 

then you can make friends with a special one, a friend of you and me.  

His name is Mr. Babadook, and this is his book.  

A rumbling sound, the three sharp knocks.  

Ba ba-ba DOOK! DOOK! DOOK!  

That's when you'll know that he's around.  

You'll see him if you look."  

The cartoon imagery accompanying these pages shows a menacing black figure, top-hatted, with pointed fingers, emerging from a wardrobe towards a small child.  At this point Amelia decides against Mr. Babadook, and stops reading.  But it doesn't end there, because once the Bababook  knocks, knocks, knocks, you have to let him in, in, in... The image of Mr. Babadook, with his enlarged fingernails, evokes every demon from "A Nightmare on Elm Street" to Struppelpeter. It's clear that this creature - whatever it is - has a hold on this two-person family.  Sam insists they read on.

"This is what he wears on top, he's funny don't you think.

See him in your room at night, and you won't sleep a wink."

Amelia stops reading out loud, to Sam's increasing panic, but she reads the following, disturbing,  pages to herself.

"I'll soon take off my funny disguise,

(take head of what you've read...)

And once you see what's underneath...

YOU'RE GOING TO WISH YOU WERE DEAD"

Amelia places the book out of reach, on top of a wardrobe; but Sam obsesses about the Babadook, freaking out his school-mates to the extent where he is expelled, and hurting his peers at a birthday party.  Amelia's wits begin to fray; it seems she can't even pleasure herself at night without an interruption from her son, climbing into her bed.  Sam's violent streak grows more prominent, and he is caught breaking into his late father's study.  But, touchingly, he promises to protect his Mother.  The book impossibly reappears in Sam's room.  Amelia tears it up and burns it.  But it reappears on her doorstep, taped back together.  Despite her increasingly frustrated and angry assertions that there is no Babadook, Amelia begins to wonder, to doubt, and her uncertainty spins out into a wonderful second-half of the film, as it becomes apparent that maybe the problem doesn't lie with Samuel, but maybe she herself is having serious grief issues about her husband, the grisly nature of whose death is hinted at in a vision she has...  Therein lies the sheerly beautiful skill of the storytelling in the film; the focus changes so gradually and subtly between the main characters.  Amelia's friends distance themselves from her.  Lights start to flicker for no reason, and things start to go bump in the night...  Peppered throughout are seemingly insignificant touches - look out for a television news report, for example - which turn out to be relevant to Amelia and Sam's predicament.  As with the best Monster films, the Babadook is seen outside of the pages of the book only fleetingly; the terror is implied by mood, lighting and some amazing sound design..

The film is tremendously assured not just in its unfolding narrative, but in its all-round production.  The majority of scenes take place within Amelia and Sam's home, itself a strangely timeless, cavernous, Victorian-terrace style house.  Polish-born Radek Ladcuk's cinematography plays with light and shadow tantalisingly, and has the disorientating effect of making the house feel simultaneously vast and claustrophobic.  The home is supposed to be a place of sanctuary, so its violation adds to the distinct sense of unease.  As the actors spend a large part of the film in their night clothes, in the house, at night, there's also a strong feeling of vulnerability absent when they're out and about in town, in the daylight.  Ultimately the film succeeds or fails on the strength of its central performances.  Essentially it's a two-hander; besides a few subsidiary characters - a kindly old neighbour, a concerned and romantically tentative co-worker - the film rests squarely on the shoulders of Essie Davies as Amelia, and Noah Wiseman as Sam.  Both give remarkable performances.  Davies chillingly captures the aggression, mental, emotional, and physical deterioration of a woman haunted in the extreme - in the latter case, at one point she starts losing her teeth, as Sam has, creating an unquantifiable bond between Mother and Son.  Wiseman, too, is impressively mature; amusingly / glibly (* delete as applicable) described by one reviewer as a cross between Danny from "The Shining" and Kevin in "We Need to Talk About...", he is so much more than that.  Reflecting his mother's maelstrom of anxiety and emotion, he effects by turns playfulness, anger, aggression, violence, grief (for the unknown), mania, terror, and ultimately tender concern care and love.  Child performers are notoriously hit-and-miss and can easily let a piece down, but Noah Wiseman proves well up to the task.  I know that what ends up on screen is very different from what goes on on a film set, but some of the climactic confrontation scenes are so raw and intense to watch, one wonders how he could not be affected in some way.

It's commonly held that horror films "aren't for women" but if ever there was an exception to prove that rule, "The Babadook" is it.  Not only is it written and directed by a woman (Jennifer Kent), and its protagonist is a woman, but there's good cause to say that its central concerns - birth, motherhood (the first word spoken is "Mum"), protection, abandonment, wifehood, bereavement, strength, love (the last word spoken is "Sweetheart") - would speak strongly to women.  For a film so permeated with dread, the coda is disarmingly bright, and upbeat - albeit with a little twist.  This is the final trick the film has up its sleeve, to wrongfoot the viewer with something of a tonal shift when they've barely caught their breath from what's just unfolded on screen.

A deserved winner of Best Film at the Australian Film Institute awards this year - a co-recipient alongside Russell Crowe's stirring directorial debut "The Water Diviner" - the film has also been nominated for and won a host of other critics awards, not least walking away with the Best Horror gong at the UK's prestigious Empire Awards!  It's unique, disturbing as well as being scary - note the difference - and ultimately deeply moving.  It is a brilliant metaphor for a character's mental state, along similar lines, arguably, to Jeff Nichols' superb 2011 film "Take Shelter".  It is without a doubt one of the most memorable films of any genre, let alone horror, of recent years, and just the thought of hearing three slow knocks in the middle of the night is enough to send shivers down the spine...

You may even want to check out the lovingly-created book at http://thebabadook.com/ 



This is the mild spoiler, by the way:

How can you not simply love a film in which the cute dog gets it?

SB

Edge of Tomorrow

Edge of Tomorrow (2014)

Starring Tom Cruise and Emily Blunt

Directed by Doug Liman

"Edge of Tomorrow" is a perfect example of film-makers taking a host of familiar ingredients, throwing them into a blender, mixing them up, and coming out with something perfectly legitimate and entertaining in its own right.  Glibly described by some as "Groundhog Day" meets "Starship Troopers" the film tells the story of Major William Cage (Tom Cruise), a P.R. Officer in the the U.S. Army, who, courtesy of scheming General Brigham (Brendan Gleeson) finds himself somehow press-ganged into fighting on the front line against an invasion of seemingly invincible aliens, as they wage war on planet earth, about which we learn through a newsreel intro as they fight their way across continental Europe (echoes of 1939?); they are called Mimics, and arrived on earth on earth on a crashed asteroid.  Cage is a smarmy coward, happy to hide behind his desk, and is horrified to be thrown into battle.  Understandably, he stands no chance, despite the hi-tech "jacket" combat suits with which the troops are equipped, and in the first "Saving Private Ryan"-esque assault on the European coast, he takes in a certain string of events and manages to kill an alien before meeting a grizzly death, with spilled alien blood melting his face.  The twist is that when he is killed on the battlefield, he wakes up to find that the day has started again, so he must live through the same events again and again.  And every day he dies, but working his way slightly farther up the beach as he seems to know what's coming - up to a point.  Along the way he encounters Sgt. Rita Vrataski (Emily Blunt), aka "The Angel of Verdun" (evoking the First World War), a war hero responsible for a famous victory over the invaders, and now a poster-woman for the defence forces.  She gives him an odd look, as if she knows something he doesn't.

On one such incarnation, meeting Vrataski on the field of fire, she tells him to "find me when you wake up".  He does so, and she takes him to meet Noah Taylor's Dr. Carter, a disgraced Whitehall scientist, who has theorised that all Mimics are part of a greater consciousness, a brain which he calls an Omega.  His supposition is that each time an Alpha Mimic is killed, the aliens are able to reset time in order to anticipate better the humans resistance, and thus win the war.  Cage, having killed an Alpha on his first mission, has inherited that ability, hence his ability to relive each day.  Vrataski explains that she previously had this ability, but was wounded and given a blood transfusion of regular human blood, so lost the power.  So from here on in, it's either death or nothing.  Cage embarks on a rigourous training routine to help his chances of meeting combat's demands, and working out how to defeat the Mimics once and for all.  Much humour is to be had (this is the "Groundhog Day" part) about him reliving the day again and again, confounding other characters (who are living the day for what they think is the first time) by his knowledge of exactly what's to come, in any given moment.  And there's even humour in his repeated deaths, for example when mis-judging a roll under a track as he tries to escape from his ball-busting Master Sergeant Farrell (a joyful performance by the legendary Bill Paxton).

The mechanics of the story determine the structure, but it feels good because I don't think it's really been seen in cinema before - Bill Murray aside.  Where it has been seen, perennially, is in video games.  Now a massive industry, with the "First Person Shooter" a particular favourite genre, featuring titles such as early favourite "Doom", X-Box benchpost "Halo" and "Gears of War" .  This film draws on the "lives" feature of such games, that is, ones character in the game can be killed by a foe, only to start the "level" again, only this time knowing what's coming - an inch at a time.  In many ways this is what makes the movie so enjoyable.  The audience experiences each day with Cage, but each time he knows what's coming but we generally don't.  Much fun is had with that in several sequences, such as one in which the pair try to infiltrate Brigham's offices which sees Cage telling Rita exactly when to move to avoid security guards, and then telling the General exactly what his secretary is going to say.



Cruise continues his positive streak - I even thought "Oblivion" was way more thoughtful and compassionate than most people found it on its release.  He perfectly portrays Cage's journey from smarmy PR guy to seasoned fighter.  Blunt, likewise, is impressive in an unfamiliar action role.  Paxton, Gleeson, and Taylor are solid in support, as is the ensemble group of Cage's squad, including "Robin Hood" himself, Jonas Armstrong.  Again, much of the comedy comes from Cage's interactions with his "comrades" in J-Squad, as they taunt him abouint his green-ness but he comes gradually to be in a position to save their lives one by one.  Director Doug Liman continues to add to his eclectic CV.  Ranging from the hysterical Jon Favreau / Vince Vaughan (and it's not often you hear that these days) starrer "Swingers" ("You're monay, baby, and you don't even know it!") by way of rave comedy "Go" (great soundtrack), the original trilogy-spawning "The Bourne Identity" and the movie that put Brangelina together, "Mr & Mrs Smith".  He brings a firm hand to the tiller here, cleverly balancing the action, comedy, and time-bending premise.

Overall, this is / was a refreshingly original and fun big action sci-fi blockbuster which didn't obviously have an eye on a franchise - a nice rarity these days.  It's not entirely original, but that doesn't seem to matter because it's so well put together, and a great deal of fun.  It's been somewhat viewed as having under-performed in last summer's busy season.  Arguments for this include the vague title (originally it was named for it's Japanese graphic novel source material, "All You Need is Kill" by Hiroshi Sarakuza) but execs bottled it during production.  "Edge of Tomorrow" does actually make sense, because each time Cage dies he's on the verge of making it to the next day, but still has pieces of the problem to solve.  But on its own terms it almost completely succeeds creatively, if you will.  The action is solidly staged and exciting.  The thrill ride is thorough, and I think the film will stand up well over time.

I really enjoyed it.  Definitely worth a rental / download / watch / whatever your thing is.

SB



Inglorious Basterds

Inglorious Basterds (2009)

Starring Brad Pitt and Christoph Waltz

Directed by Quentin Tarantino

After the giant "Meh" of "Kill Bill" Volumes 1 and 2, and the almighty strike-out of the utterly execrable  "Grindhouse" segment "Death Proof", writer / director Quentin Tarantino, cinema's apparent 'enfant terrible' was in danger of becoming permanently known as 'réalisateur terrible'.  He needed something special to recapture the glory days of "Reservoir Dogs" and "Pulp Fiction".  And whilst "Inglorious Basterds" is not quite that picture, it took huge strides towards fixing the damage.  It's a remake in almost-name only of the 1978 Italian film, bearing scant resemblance, and is a skewed fantasy set during the Second World War, yet one betraying no regard for historical accuracy.  One might argue that few and far between is the Hollywood war film which pays credence to historical accuracy, most just pretend to.  In the case of "Basterds" Tarantino doesn't even waste our time pretending.  This is invention pure and simple.  Sometimes it doesn't work, but mostly it does.  It's a revenge picture - obviously - as that's Tarantino's staple.

The plus points are many.  Primarily it's in the acting performances, and as one would expect, in the dialogue.  Storywise, the film opens with a 20 minute scene consisting primarily of two men sitting at a table talking to one another.  But it's gripping.  The speeches are fantastically written and brilliantly played, and it's one of the rare occasions on which one doesn't feel Tarantino has gone on too long - more of that later - even though the scene is long.  The scene in question concerns the visit in 1941 by SS Colonel Hans Landa, self-styled "Jew Hunter", to the dairy farm of M. LaPaditte, who is suspected of sheltering Jews.  Having manipulated the farmer into giving up his secret, Landa charmingly departs.  It's a fine example of Christoph Waltz's epic, Oscar and Golden Globe winning performance, that he can be so likable whilst being so chillingly evil.  Fast forward three years, and we find moustachioed US Army Lieutenant Aldo Raine, of Appalacian country (and accent), played by Brad Pitt, putting together a squad of Jewish GIs to drop behind German lines ahead of D-Day and wage a campaign of terror. In essence The Dirty Dirty Dozen. Raine also is charming and funny, but vicious - he insists his men scalp their Nazi victims, and happily has one of his squad beat captives to death with a baseball bat.  He's the flip side of Landa.  Pitt, too, although somewhat over the top, is excellent.

Two further storylines are thrown into the mix.  In Paris, Shosana, an escapee from the farmhouse in the opening scene, has changed her identity and is now the proprietress of a cinema.  She meets Frederick Zoller, a German war hero, about whose GI-killing exploits a propaganda film is being made.  He attempts to chat her up but she rebuffs him, until finding out who he is.  Together they hit upon a plan to convince Joseph Goebbles to hold the premiere of his propaganda film at Shosana / aka Emmanuelle's cinema.  The allies, on learning of the switch, hatch a plan (Operation Kino) to destroy the cinema thus taking out the entire German High Command and dispatch Lt. Archie Hicox to co-ordinate with undercover spy and glamourous actress Bridget Hammersmark to make the necessary arrangements.  Emmanuelle is thinking along the same lines, even if it means destroying her own movie palace.  Meanwhile the Basterds' killing spree continues, and everything builds towards a history re-writing climax.

What's good about all this is the sheer velocity, and the nerve of concocting such a story.  Aside from the two leads, the cast is superb; Melanie Laurent (Shosana), Diane Kruger (Bridget) Michael Fassbender (Archie), are all great, and even Eli Roth (Donny) is ok. There are neat cameos from Rod Taylor and a virtually unrecognisable Mike Myers.  Raine's "marking" of the hapless Nazis he comes across is genius.  The script crackles with wonderful scenes and some killer lines.  And the conclusion is quite simply delicious., something close to perfectly orchestrated farce. There are some killer speeches, and, impressively, much of the dialogue is spoken in French or German and in subtitles.  This in itself is really impressive, not something one often sees in "big" films. the downside, as with most Tarantino offerings since "Reservoir Dogs", it's way too long.  QT really needs to make friends with an editor - or rather, annoy his editor to make him or her more brutal.  The entire "Operation Kino" subplot is, frankly, superfluous and its excision would have brought the running time right down.  Having said that the "bar basement scene" is superb, although the "three fingers" thing is so annoying as it could easily be explained away.  Small point though.  The film is divided into "chapters" which is a bit annoying, and it's very much Tarantio's thing.  The biggest problem for me was the music.  The use of a David Bowie track in one scene is completely misjudged and jarring.  And the over-reliance on Ennio Morricone is just boring and possibly just lazy.

Overall, "Inglorious Basterds" is very entertaining, despite its flaws.  It's distinctively contemporary despite its period setting, and unmistakably the work of its director; the camera work, particularly in the first scene featuring the squad, is fantastic.  It is a bit flabby but doesn't significantly lose the viewer's attention at any point.  Its warped take on history is original and strangely fitting.  It boasts some mesmerising performances (excited to see Waltz on board for "Spectre").  Frustratingly, not all of the right characters are killed off - although maybe that's the point.  It's much better than "Django Unchained", which likewise ended up with an Oscar nomination for Best Picture.  Come to think of it, I'd say it's Tarantino's third best film after "Reservoir Dogs" and "Pulp Fiction".  There are a few gruesome moments but if you can stomach them these "Basterds" can be recommended.

The Third Man

The Third Man (1949)

Starring Joseph Cotten and Orson Welles

Directed by Carol Reed

Set in Vienna, a city carved into pieces in the aftermath of the Second World War, director Carol Reed (who had previously made one of the definitive Second World war films, "The Way Ahead") adapts the novella by Graham Greene, who received screen credit for adapting his own piece, into one of the true classics of cinema.  It's a film (A London Film) to which I keep returning time and time again; it's just a nose behind "Lawrence of Arabia" as the best film ever made, in my opinion.  There's a lot in it; mystery, friendship, betrayal, morality and ethics, the threat of authority, resurrection, romance.  And zither music.  Lots of zither music.  Anton Karas' theme is one of the most recognizable film themes ever.  The opening credits even play over a close up of the strings of a zither being plucked.  Having set up the politics of the situation in Vienna with one of those quotey old-school chattily voiced-over montages one doesn't see in films these days ("Oh, I was going to tell you, wait, I was going to tell you about Holly Martins"), the film proper opens with an American, the aforesaid Martins (Cotten), writer of pulp Western novels, arriving by train in the Austrian capital to visit his old friend Harry Lime (Welles); Martins has hit upon hard times and Lime has offered him gainful employment.  But he soon finds out that Lime has been killed - hit by a truck outside his flat - but that he, Martins, is just in time to attend the funeral.  At the funeral Martins meets a British Army officer, Major Calloway (upon being mistakenly named Callaghan by Martins he snaps "Calloway.  I'm English, not Irish!").  Calloway reveals that Lime was a racketeer and murderer, suggesting Martins return home forthwith.  But Martins is faithful to his friend and insists the Major must be mistaken.  After one drink too many he attempts to punch him, and is restrained by Sergeant Paine - the great Bernard Lee (real first name John, for any trivia fans out there!)  It's amusing when Paine, escorting Martins to his hotel, admits to being a big fan of his Westerns.  The following day, Holly finds himself becoming embroiled in the mystery, regardless of his own intentions, as he meets Harry's brooding, dark-haired actress girlfriend Anna Schmidt (Alida Valli), and those who were present at the scene of Lime's death.  Coincidentally, it seems they all knew him or were somehow connected to him.  Something is not quite right.

The porter in Harry's apartment building tells Holly and Anna that three men carried Lime's body, contrary to the official line heard at the inquest, that there were only two.  But he is reticent to become involved or say more.  Similar enquiries prove frustrating. So who was the Third Man?  Given that the film poster (the biggest spoiler since the Statue of Liberty showed up on the "Planet of the Apes" dvd cover - oops!) shows Welles, I think it's fairly safe now 65 years on to say that Lime isn't actually a corpse, but faked his death, for reasons which become apparent, and that the body was that of another person.  The very much alive Lime reveals himself to Martins in one of the most memorable and iconic scenes in  the whole history of cinema.  Welles' face, as he stands in the shadows of a recessed doorway, is suddenly illuminated by a light turning on across the street.  Lime grins at Holly before slipping away.  It's a first appearance over an hour into the film, but Lime's presence utterly dominates proceedings. 

As does Welles'.  He doesn't direct here, and indeed proceedings are a lot tighter and more disciplined than might have been the case had he done so, but his sensibility is all pervasive.  In fact, after that wordless doorway shot, he only really has two scenes - one in which he meets Martins to have a little chat on the Weiner Weisenrad, the big Ferris Wheel which dominates the Prater Park, and one at the film's climax in which he arrives for a pre-arranged rendezvous with Martins only to discover he has been betrayed; this leads to a memorably atmospheric chase through the stark shadows of the streets and eventually sewers.  It's wryly appropriate that the "rat" ends up {Spoiler alert, but we are talking 66 years ago) meeting his end in the sewers.  Welles perfectly embodies the "banality of evil" - the ability to be utterly charming but thoroughly rotten to the core.  Robert Krasker's visuals are striking, Martins' growing confusion reflected by an increasing number of "dutch angles", and menacing shots from below looking upwards.  The idealized good v bad ethic is sharply brought out in the light / shadow motif, but ultimately everything is grey, visually as well as morally.

This film is packed full of epic and memorable lines of dialogue.  Perhaps most famous is Lime's line on the Borgias versus the Swiss: "..in Italy for 30 years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance.  In Switzerland they had brotherly love, they had 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock."  Apparently improvised by Welles (depending on which apocryphal stories you read) the words speak to the heart of Harry's character.  In other words, to borrow from the Joker, you can't make an omelette if you don't break some eggs.  Lime's means are to the ends. In the same scene, looking down on the people below, Lime defends his dubious actions comparing the little dots, ants, and asking Holly if he would really care if one of those dots was squashed.  Welles and Cotten play off each other brilliantly, not surprising given their extended association together in the Mercury Theater.  And I love Calloway's line "Death's at the bottom of everything Martins.  Leave death to the professionals."

Essentially, this is film noir, although it doesn't wear the traditionally perceived badges of that genre (Private Investigator, murder of individual, convoluted plot, the femme as fatale rather than victim), it is black film in its truest sense.  It reeks of the same bitterness found in much "traditional" film noir; bad things happen to good people.  The war is won but the aftermath makes Lime's crimes possible.  The film has lodged itself in the general popular consciousness by virtue of these iconic moments and endearing emotions and themes, it's psychological horror, almost.  It's as close as we have or probably will come in recent years to Shakespearean tragedy (of course Welles himself produced visionary adaptations of Shakespeare on screen - "Macbeth" in 1948, "Othello" in 1952 and "Chimes at Midnight" in 1965).  

The Third Man is utter brilliance.

V for Vendetta

V for Vendetta (2005)

Starring Natalie Portman and Hugo Weaving

Directed by James McTeigue

Despite being disowned by author of the original (graphic) novel, the perennially grumpy Alan Moore ("Watchmen"), weirdly bearded and shaggy-haired inhabitant of the metropolis of Northampton, it has to be said that this film is really rather good.  It tells the story of Evey (ee-vee) a young woman living in an oppressive dystopian future Britain (like Orwell on steroids), whom one night whilst breaking the government-imposed curfew meets the combat-skilled vigilante known only as "V", a masked avenger seemingly keen on destruction of the status quo, who rescues her from a pair of assailants. Having saved her from grievous assault, and gradually befriends her, eventually taking her into his home, protecting her when anarchic terrorist attacks hit the capital.  Masked and gloved, which he claims essential due to prior injury, we never see his face or eyes or hands.  His smiling "Guido Fawlkes" mask has since become the icon of rebellious hacker group "Anonymous", and indeed more broadly the generally disgruntled, as witnessed at the recent protests in Central London).  Life imitating art?  Nevertheless.  The Government here is terrifying, oppressive, intrusive and violent.  Their control of the media is total, There's a High Chancellor, in place of a Prime Minister, who seems to rule all without censor, and who proves to be viciously vindictive. The connection between Evey and V is cemented, and not just through their names.

"V for Vendetta"'s depiction of the way in which society is gradually inching is terrifying.   It's slowly recognisable, but tweaked to 11 on the nastiness scale so that it's impossible to switch ones brain off whilst watching this film and just settle down for a dumb action-movie. This is a wake-up call for the brain-dead: Look Around You.  The 13 year old, fruitless "war on terror" impinges on our freedoms at every turn, takes the lives of our young men and women, and seems to have done little to reduce Jihadist plots here in the UK, recently - tragically - France, and elsewhere in "the West". The affordability to think for ones-self seems to diminish daily, whilst the chance to voice trivial bullsh!t on Facebook seems to increase, and increase in priority, by the moment.  Where is it going?  The rage expressed by this film, already provocative,  ratchets up.  The plot takes a gigantic turn when Evey is arrested by the state, and forced to undergo months of torture.  Will her spirit survive?  Is the price of dignity death?  It plays out fascinatingly, and the twist at the end (I don't think it's much of a spoiler to say that there's a twist - I just won't tell you what it is) is fantastic.  There's also a genuinely shocking scene in which a character is dragged from bed by armed state-run goons in the middle of the night, which only becomes tragic when the shock has died down.  The crime that sees them sentenced to death?  Owning an antique Koran.

This film, although lacking the stylistic flair of the "Matrix" films, has the Wachowski's fingerprints all over it.  Director James McTeigue has been an assistant on several of their films, as well as "Star Wars: Episode 2" and Alex Proyas' rather magical "Dark City" from back in the 90s.  It barrels along rather nicely, and future-London looks just enough like a matte painting to be ethereal and beautiful, but not too computer-generated.  The Cinematography by veteran Adrian Biddle ("Aliens", "The Princess Bride", "Thelma & Louise") is flawless; it perfectly evokes the slightly artificial feel of a graphic novel (ie a grown-up comic book) with a realistic street-level view of future London.

Portman is simply fantastic as Evey.  Easily rivaling her performance in the role of the emotional wreck she played in "Black Swan", here she plays a different kind of victim... or should that be survivor, or champion?  The imprisonment and torture she undergoes are horrific, and I have nothing but respect for her for the physical lengths to which she went to play this role, including shaving her hair off.  There's a hugely affecting subplot in which she communicates with a fellow prisoner via scratched-out notes pushed through tiny holes in the walls between their cells.  This fellow inmates sole "crime" is to be a lesbian.  It's sickening, but only because it's not implausible.  The whole cast are wonderful too.  Hugo gives what I can only think of as the best performance ever of an actor not showing his face (although the jury is out on exactly where Andy Serkis fits in here, exacted).  John Hurt is fantastic as Chancellor Sutler, and one can't help but think of the irony of him having played Winston Smith in the film of "1984".  Steven Rea is good too, as the cop on V's trail, as is Rupert Graves as his subordinate.

The film climaxes with something I found to be truly unexpected.  It was an act of iconoclasm so extreme I never thought I'd see it in play.   Yet, for this movie, it works perfectly.  It's the only logical conclusion to the story.  There's no way the main character could have gone through what she goes through without this type of emotional payoff.  It feels hideous, and wrong to see onscreen, but also deeply satisfying, in a guilty pleasure type way.  This is a film packed with impacting, iconic and memorable images.

Most importantly, this is a film which asks the viewer to think whilst, or just after, being entertained.  There are action sequences, sure; V proves quite handy in that department in some nifty fights.  But it's the fight within the mind which drives the movie.  Not only in Evey's fight against her mental and physical torture and perpetual fear, but also in the depicted society's intolerant totalitarian conservatism, ultra Christian religious stance, the implicit bias of that, a hideous but credible scenario.  On initial viewing I thought the film was good, entertaining, and intelligent.  But on repeated visits (it's one of those where if I turn the tv on but it's half way through, I'll still watch to the end!) my estimate has ramped up. Love this.  See it, and think.

Remember remember... The fifth of November.

SB

Once

Once (2006)

Starring Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová

Written and directed by John Carney

Every so often, a little film comes out of left field, and blows this viewer to pieces.  "Once" was one of those such films 8 years ago.  It's a modest, tiny story, about a guitar-playing Dublin busker in his early thirties (listed only in the credits as "Guy", played by Glen Hansard, of rock & roll band The Frames, and not an actor, although he had appeared in Alan Parker's 1991 soul music comedy "The Commitments") striking up a friendship with an immigrant Czech flower-seller (credits: "Girl"  played by first-timer Markéta Irglová) who admires his songs and harbours her own modest ambitions in that area - she's a piano player, but can't afford to buy an upright over in Ireland.  He plays popular songs by day, and his own compositions by night.  No one seems to listen to him much, except the passing heroin addict (in a hysterical early scene) and "Girl", who is seemingly transfixed.  The songs are raw and emotional, several delivered in crescendos to shoutiness which really shouldn't work, but which somehow do.  One lunchtime the pair visit a musical instrument store of which "Guy" is friendly with the proprietor.  They seemingly improvise a version of one of his songs which he teaches her, the insanely beautiful and gentle "Falling Slowly" - track which incidentally would go on to win numerous awards including the Academy Award for Best Original Song in 2008.

The plot, what there is of it, could be written on the back of a postage stamp (that is, if postage stamps these days weren't all self-adhesive, and probably can't be written on, but I digress).  "Guy" and "Girl" meet in the street around Dublin a few times.  His day job is working in a vacuum cleaner repair shop with his elderly Father, to which she promptly brings her busted Hoover.  We find out that he is coming off the back of a long-term relationship, and that his ex has left him and moved to London.  He toys with the idea of making the move himself.  His clearly deep affection for "Girl" is borne as much from rebound as it is from respect for her talent; he makes an inappropriate and badly-timed advance, which offends her.  They patch things up soon enough, but he is shocked to discover that she is married, and has a child living with her in Dublin, although her estranged husband is still living back in the Czech Republic; apparently things weren't easy, but she is still committed to the marriage.  She's also alarmingly blunt with him, possibly not quite aware of the social niceties as a result of the linguistic difference.  Although she says to "Guy" at one point, in Czech, "Miluju tebe", which I understand means "I love you" or something along those lines.  But it seems it's not to be between them.  There's much to be said for simply being friends..  They embark on a partnership of musical collaboration, platonic friendship, and unrequited love but produce musical nectar along the way.  Enlisting the help of three other local musicians - Gerard Hendrick, Alastair Foley and Hugh Walsh (as Timmy the drummer - the cast letting their love of "South Park" be known there, through one of the only characters actually to be given a name) - they miraculously secure a bank loan, and hire a recording studio in beautiful surroundings South of Dublin on the East Coast, where they lay down enough tracks to create a demo CD.  Enough for "Guy" to take to London with him to try to make it big.

 

The film drips with naturalism, and is so much stronger for it.  The camerawork, much of it hand-held, is realistic - call it "documentary style" or what you will, it adds to the feeling that we're genuinely peeking in on the lives of these people.  There's a fantastic moment during the first recording session, when the studio engineer cues the band up, starts recording and leans back in his chair, bored, reading a magazine.  As the song progresses and builds, we see him gradually start to perk up, and actually listen to the song.  He's clearly impressed, and in the space of three and a half minutes he has gone from treating this group of musicians with disdain, a bunch of talentless dreamers wasting their time and money, to musicians he regards with respect, capable of creating great tunes.  As the song concludes, he simply remarks "That was nice", but with visible appreciation, it's a lovely moment.  "Guy" and band react with touching humility, as if surprised that anyone outside their ranks could appreciate their music.  There are some wonderful, tender moments as "Guy" coaxes "Girl" into playing some of her own songs; she breaks down one night in a darkened side-studio, and opens up to him.

Director John Carney gave us the Keira Knightley / James Corden / Mark Ruffalo musical flick  "Begin Again" earlier this year, which I have not yet seen but by all accounts is slightly cuter and less effective than "Once".  Still, it's nice to see his obvious talent being recognised.  What's heartening about this film is that the mood is so realistic and the characters are so credible.  From "Guy's" pain at his breakup and furtive longing to "Girl's" ambition and thwarted affection, these are real people it seems, on a genuine emotional arc.  The ending is bittersweet.  One wants the couple to get together, but we're also reminded that real-life isn't always that simple.  Some have asked why it is so titled.  But "Once" is beautifully ambiguous.  It could refer to the one time you meet a person who's perfect for you, the one time things click into place with your ambitions and your achievements.   I was never really a great fan of Musicals.  Save for "Singin' in the Rain" and the "Blues Brothers", and unless "Amadeus" counts, I don't really have much time for a film's characters randomly breaking into song and dance; they just don't work for me, although I accept they have their place.  "Once" isn't a Musical in the traditional sense of the word, rather, it's a film about people who play and sing songs.  So many of the songs here are truly fantastic; from the Oscar-winning "Falling Slowly" to the amazing "When Your Mind's Made Up" by way of the beautiful "If You Want Me", sung by "Girl" on a walk back to her flat from the convenience store where she has had to buy batteries for her Discman, so she could listen to "Guy's" music and lay her words down on top (it's a brilliant handheld shot-in-motion).  This isn't even my kind of music - there's no four-to-the-floor beat, or synths!  But the songs are utterly wonderful, and many of them are performed in full by the artists concerned.  One honestly feels like you're watching real musicians - and you are.

The movie has recently been turned into a West End / Broadway stage production, which I haven't seen and can't yet quite figure out how would work.  But the film, to say this upfront, is so sweet and touching, it really hits me in the heart; dare I say it, it's a masterpiece.  I've read that it spent longer in the US box office top 30 than "Spiderman 3" and "Shrek the Third" (and it certainly cost a hell of a lot less then those to produce).  No less than Steven Spielberg allegedly said of it "a little movie called "Once" gave me enough strength to last the rest of the year".  High praise indeed.  Hansard and Irglová dated for a few years, and performed on stage after the film, opened for Bob Dylan on a tour, and the chemistry together is certainly palpable.  They're incredibly watchable.  Apparently shot in just 17 days, it's affectingly ultra-realistic.  And it's packed with human charm.  For sure, it's bittersweet at the end.  We want these two to get together, but we understand why they can't.  Life's not always like that.  "Once" is a wonderful, low-key, charmer of a film, and whether you like the songs or not, it's got so much humanity, humour and heart that it's well worth the 100 minutes of your time it would take to check it out.