Beauty & The Beast

It's no secret that there aren't a whole lot of new ideas left in Hollywood anymore. The death of the mid major movie (your $35 million budget film with respectable but not outrageous aspirations) has led to a studio-dominated box office filled with sequels, franchises, reboots and remakes. And none exemplifies this more than Disney, the amoeba of the film world that has systematically subsumed the likes of Marvel and Star Wars to become the big name in blockbuster filmmaking. And while the animated division of Disney continues to flirt with originality (Moana), the live action side of things has taken to cannibalize itself through live action remakes of many of these beloved animated classics. These films have seen success, from Alice in Wonderland, Cinderella and Maleficent, and Disney clearly seems to be enjoying themselves putting more and more of these remakes in the pipeline. But whereas its initial forays into the trend were all classics from 50 or more years ago, 2017 marks their first attempt to update a classic film much of its audience would have had the chance to see in the theater: 1991’s Beauty and the Beast.

Choosing to resurrect the first ever animated film to be nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards is a tall task, and Disney enlisted Bill Condon to shepherd the project to the screen. Condon has had a fascinating roller coaster of a career, with ups (Dreamgirls) and downs (the final two Twilight movies). But he does have a pretty solid piece of source material to draw from. Writers Stephen Chbosky and Evan Spiliotopoulos took the tale and expanded it but the skeleton remains the same. It’s still about Belle, Emma Watson, and she’s still a bookish outcast in her tiny little village, still dodging the romantic advances of muscle-with-legs Gaston, Luke Evans. She comes into contact with The Beast, heavily CGI'd Dan Stevens, after the disappearance of her father, who accidentally stumbled upon his hidden castle in the woods. The Beast was cursed for being an unsympathetic in his younger princely days, with his servants turned into various household objects, and if the now hideous monster could feel true love before the wilting of a magic rose, he would be returned to his former self. With Belle in the castle, having chosen to replace her father as the Beast’s prisoner, his servants go to work to make them fall in love. See? Same old song and dance.

The easiest thing to notice about Beauty and the Beast 2.0 is its choreography. The opening replaces the original’s storybook retelling of the cursing of the prince with a look into one of his opulent parties, with endless patrons dancing through a giant ballroom, the camera swooping and turning, the edits coming fast and loose. It’s chaotic and it’s busy and it’s honestly often incomprehensible, an assault of the senses that threatens to tire you out before it has a chance to get going. The hope would be that the open is so aggressive as to contrast it with the sleepy simple life of Belle’s village, but that hope is soon dashed by Condon’s staging of Belle’s classic opening number, Belle, and the same chaos reigns. It makes for a rather exhausting and deadening first twenty minutes.

When things quiet down (which happens more rarely than you might assume) it settles into something a bit more palatable. Dan Stevens does an admirable job aping Robby Benson’s bellows and growls, while successfully mapping The Beast’s transition from hard-hearted brute to the sort of person Belle could fall in love with. The design of the servants is well-implemented, whether it’s Lumiere, Ewan McGregor, and his sashaying style, or the cowardly and cantankerous Cogsworth, Ian McKellen, their individual personalities shining through the computer generated objects. Perhaps surprisingly, Watson’s Belle isn’t particularly inspiring; she doesn’t quite seem to find the right balance in her characterization and comes off as a bit one note. Luke Evans has Gaston down pat, but Josh Gad’s LeFou seems to vary too much in his personality to get a real beat on him. The characters are about as uneven as the film is. The additions to the story, whether it’s the expansion of the enchantress who initially applied the curse or some additional backstory involving Belle’s mother, all fall flat, as do the film’s new songs. Some things work, but the aspects that don’t work seem to have more staying power, leading to a pretty disappointing experience.

There was a simplicity to the 1991 Beauty and the Beast that Condon simply fails to replicate.

King Kong: Skull Island

There’s no secret that Kong: Skull Island had nothing in common with the three previous versions (1933, 1976, 2005) other than the ape’s name and the location name. Everything else is completely different and somewhat fresh to us, probably not so much to a Japanese audience, as they made multiple films with Kong either as a protagonist or as an antagonist. But for Western audiences it’s a completely new take on a historical and beloved Hollywood character.

The journey begins in 1973 on the day the United States pulled out of Vietnam. Explorer Bill Randa, John Goodman, and his associate Houston Brooks, Corey Hawkins, convince the government to fund their expedition to an uncharted island in the Pacific. Needing help, they enlist Col. Preston Packard, Samuel L. Jackson, and the members of his military group as military escorts, anti-war photographer Mason Weaver, Brie Larson, and, the leading man, ex-British special forces tracker James Conrad, Tom Hiddleston. As soon as the team arrives, they discover that the land they believe they have founded is a world ruled by a gorilla the size of a building: Kong. 

As for the human characters (who, let’s face it, are just the supporting roles here), the cast is a decidedly mixed bag of ultimately weak personalities. The most forgettable performance comes from the man who was given top billing, Hiddleston, phoning it in as the typical straight man. He is heroic, clever, morally motivated and always right about everything. Essentially, he is the direct opposite of Jackson’s character, a proud, honorable military leader who has grown slightly unhinged since the end of the Vietnam War. As for Larson, while her Farrah Fawcett-haired character comes forth slightly underdeveloped, she gives her a strong, witty and courageous personality that comes in handy when she actively participates in the action sequences despite never having a gun. While I applaud the culturally diverse casting most of the characters feel unworthy to root for.

The exception is John C. Reilly as Hank Marlow, a World War II pilot whose plane went down in 1944 leaving him stranded on the titular island ever since. He completely steals the show by thankfully abandoning the “dehumanized, feral stranded victim” trope, giddily guiding the explorers through the island’s native culture and steering them away from the most dangerous areas and creatures. With his optimistic and thoroughly hilarious portrayal, Reilly is more than the film’s comic relief: he is its heart and soul.

Despite moments lacking in more of his own screen time, seeing the king of Skull Island in action is worth the wait. The beautifully shot fight scenes between Kong and creatures that Marlow calls “Skull Crawlers” feel like a child’s fantasies during an action figure crushing session at afternoon playtime brought to life. The film is fast paced, action packed and simply written yet it's real charm comes from director Jordan Vogt-Roberts and cinematographer Larry Fong, who seems to reach higher heights than other Hollywood action expert Zack Snyder. They manage to execute a cheesy, sub-par script with mostly forgettable performances into a surprisingly and thoroughly entertaining monster movie. With beautiful aesthetic, impressive action direction and an irresistible nostalgic tone, this island proves worth returning to.

Hidden Figures

While this is may seem like an insult to some, Hidden Figures is that perfect film you can take the whole family too. Usually the “family” demeanor means non-offensive/basic storytelling, here we have a movie that defies its simple premise and delivers one of the most well-rounded films of the year. Yes, you can take the whole family to this because it is a heartwarming tale showing some progress in America’s history; but make no mistake, you’ll want to take the whole family to see Hidden Figures so we can learn how to make progress in some areas society is still struggling with today.

Directed by Theodore Melfi, Hidden Figures tells the story of Katherine Johnson, Dorothy Vaughn, and Mary Jackson, three African-American women whose work helped NASA’s efforts in the Space Race of the 1960’s. The story bounces effectively between the three ladies and each of their struggles in the white male dominated world that was NASA. Dorothy, Octavia Spencer, faces push back when she is repeatedly denied career advancement despite her qualifications. Mary’s, Janelle Monae, skill set demands she be an engineer, but she cannot do so unless she is able to take classes at a 1960’s Virginian segregated school. Katherine, Taraji P. Henson, is our main focus, as she is given the opportunity with the most influence: calculating (more like inventing) the math that will allow an American to not only circle the earth, but re-enter the atmosphere safely. The screenplay by Melfi and Allison Schroeder does a great job taking the real life events and crafting them into a compelling two hour film. Each character not only has their career advancement driving the plot, but we also see how each of these ladies encountered segregation and how their math and engineering skills were just as part of the Civil Rights Movement as the protests were.

You might hope that a film set 50 years ago dealing with civil rights would easily be a thing of the past, but unfortunately that is not the case. Whether it be discussions about prejudice in our society, the struggles women face in the workplace, or even how bathrooms can cause social divisions, Hidden Figures feels timely in a way that was not expected. To be clear, Hidden Figures is definitely not a heavy film to experience. The PG-rated story doesn’t shy away from the civil rights aspects of the story but generally it chooses to focus on the hopeful progress rather than dwell on the harsher realities of the struggle.

Hidden Figures ends up being that perfect balance between inspiring, entertaining and educational.

Free in Deed

Free in Deed is certainly a tough film to watch. Exploring themes such as religion and special needs, writer, director and co-editor Jake Mahaffy does not shy away from controversy. In a raw foreword, recorded on skype for Glasgow Film Festival, he simply encourages viewers to disconnect from personal opinion and to embrace the ideal that the film does not reflect his own personal views. An opening statement that felt like he was making excuses for creating the film which I felt was unnecessary considering the film itself is unapologetic. Starring David Harewood, this film depicted the loss of hope, faith and life in way that has me distracted even hours later. 

The film documents the life of a young woman and her two children, one of whom has Autism. Based on actual events, she turns to her local church and it's resident healer for help with her son. The film explores the unfortunate trend within some religious communities of using exorcism and spiritual healing to cure individuals with special needs. The 'storefront church' trend that is sweeping American small towns promoting local bishops and 'healers' and the depiction of the dangerous and in the case of Free in Deed deadly consequences of using these practices on young and disabled children is central to the film. The continuing rise of disenfranchised masses who have turned to religion to both heal and revitalise their lives is worrying from an admittedly privileged point of view. But understanding that millions of people do believe that God is the answer to their problems and that devoted worship will result in physical manifestations of God's love in return is key to understanding some of the wider social issues that are taking hold of America today. In a world that is currently so lost, is it bizarre to look for a higher power to right our wrongs? This film is a brutal display of a popular belief system in central bible belt America and other countries.

A film without a glimpse of hope in any of it's characters lives, Free in Deed strikes a particularly heart breaking tone in it's depiction of Melva's young daughter. Not only does she witness the cruel exorcism sessions but she mimics them with her doll and sits angeliclly, unaware of the implications of what she sees. From a film making perspective the deliberate and unashamed guiding from the cinematography was especially interesting. It has some of the most obvious displays of forced attention I've seen on screen in a long time and was cleverly utilised to show focus on the power of belief. This was particular choice resulted in what felt like slow paced film that had been weighed down by its heavy subject matter. The use of quick cuts and slow motion to emphasise the slow passage of time and draw in audience attention only heightened the tense atmosphere created by the plot. 

Berlin Syndrome

Admittedly my favourite film from this year's Glasgow Film Festival, Berlin Syndrome is frightening, stressful and intriguing. It's the sort of film that Taken wishes it could be and that Room tried to portray the aftermath of. Director Cate Shortland has really outdone herself in creating a film and characters that oozes tension and discomfort. The plot follows Claire, an Australian tourist, as she finds herself being held captive by her one night stand, Andi. Teresa Palmer leads a cast of practically two. Her sunken eyes and greasy complexion is a far cry from her recent role in Hacksaw Ridge. I'd like to think the transition from love interest to lost hope was a conscious decision. She stars opposite Max Riemelt who is the epitome of disturbed and confused evil. This is the first film I've seen Riemelt in but he has appeared in an array of, mostly German, TV movies and films. 

Full of unanswered questions the film alludes to the mysteries behind kidnappings and abductions. The audience questions throughout about Andi and who he kept before. We are never told what triggered the escalation in behaviour or even what role does the lack of a mother play in Andi's condition. The film does not shy away from it's title's similarity to Stockholm Syndrome. Particularly topical these days with the reboot of Beauty and the Beast next month. After his father dies, Andi leaves Claire in the apartment alone with no power for multiple days, with the exact time scale not determinable. When he finally returns the two have a moment of mutual dependence on each other with Claire seemingly willing to be intimate for the first time since she discovered she was trapped. This scene is the moment of transition for Claire from fighting to flee to fighting to survive and unfortunately, surviving the scenario involves accepting the role she plays in his life.

The time scale, as hinted at above, is an underlying theme in the film. With most of the film playing out during an unknown time scale, with the exception of the clear Christmas and New Years Eve scenes seen later in the film. This is an interesting approach that was perhaps used to be a commentary on the time spans that abductees are kept and how they can often be unaware that months and even years have passed. With any good abduction story, the most compelling scenes are the attempted escapes and moments of possible rescue. Each scene gets within arms length of freedom before the story is pulled backwards as Claire is literally pulled back into the apartment by Andi. As a self confessed fan of all things horror, tension building and fear inducing, I'm embarrassed to admit that I've never felt physically sick from the tension in a film before. Berlin Syndrome did just that. I left Screen One of Glasgow's Film Theatre and was happy to walk home in the fresh air in the hopes my stomach would stop doing summersaults... and yes, that was a subtle reference to Cate Shortland's other fantastic drama Somersault from 2004. 

La La Land

Like many others, I’m sure; this review begins with a clarification. No, more a resigned confession: I’ve never been one for movie musicals. There have been some exceptions every now and then, including but not limited to Moulin Rouge, Dream Girls and Chicago. Despite the varying quality of those examples, nothing has ever been able to shake my innate prejudice. I spent the opening logos of La La Land braced to cringe, waiting for the spasm in my gut and the embarrassed shiver to cross my cheeks.

For those of you who’ve been living under a rock since the film’s first appearance at the Venice film festival, Damien Chazelle directs Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone as Sebastian and Mia, two California dreamers who begin to fall in love after a chance encounter on a busy highway. Seb aspires to open his own Jazz club (in order to save what he sees as a dying genre), and Mia, a wannabe actor, is desperate to escape her life of serving coffee to the inhabitants of the Warner Bros. backlot.

Yeah, I’ve never found myself attached to the glorification of  the grand heritage La La Land is so clearly besotted with, but the two sequences paying homage to Rebel Without a Cause caught my attention. In relation to Gosling, I suppose I should put another of my long-held prejudices to rest. While his woozy eyes have understandably wowed many, to me his expression has always appeared vacant, almost detached. In Shane Black’s The Nice Guys, this worked wonders, and here, too, his hazy gaze speaks to something authentic: the far-reaching mind of a dreamer.

In contrast to the stark colours, the morality of the story - of Seb and Mia’s victories and sacrifices - is far from black and white. I’m pressed to label it ‘earnest to a fault’…Chazelle knows we’re too cynical to buy a total lovesick ode to Tinseltown right now, so peppers the sweet with spice. I could understand why the film makes certain moves towards the flip-side of fairy tales but found that the nostalgic undertone of the film as a whole reeked of insincerity.

An ear-worm of a soundtrack, astounding visuals, 'loveable' stars and a surprisingly textured narrative - it's no wonder why Hollywood is praising this film. It's everything the industry loves - itself! Personally, I think I would enjoy the film more on a second viewing but can't seem to find the time to suffer through it all again.

Passengers

Morten Tyldum’s new film offers neither acid-bleeding monsters nor iron-fisted galactic empires, but the simple passage of time. Chris Pratt stars as engineer Jim Preston, one of five-thousand passengers of the starship Avalon, your bog-standard ark-in-space vessel designed somewhere between a wind turbine and the Endurance ship from Interstellar, with constant malfunctions. One of these glitches raises Jim too early from a hypersleep to which he cannot return, leaving him with 90 years alone, and long dead before the Avalon reaches its destination. After a year spent luxuriating in the more premium areas of the ship and pondering his plight with Michael Sheen’s legless robo-barman, Jim forcibly awakens fellow passenger Aurora, played by Jennifer Lawrence, for company, knowing full well that he is denying her a future. The question soon becomes a matter of what will shatter the couple’s serene sham of a relationship first: Jim’s secret or the multitude of problems plaguing the ship?

That all sounds very complex, but, essentially, it’s two very attractive people on a very attractive spaceship living a very attractive lifestyle surrounded by very attractive production design, backed by a very attractive score. Any intriguing or challenging ideas raised by the undeniably creepy premise are soon buried beneath its super-shiny surface. It’s a shame, because Tyldum’s dealt with somewhat subversive material before and come out on top.

Now, I'm as happy as anybody to watch Pratt and Lawrence swanning around ludicrously pretty sets, going on space walks and going on dates to see Michael Sheen, but, let’s be honest, both of them could have done this in their sleep: he’s very good at looking a bit smug and cuddly, she’s very good at crying in despair. By the film's very nature as multiplex fodder, there's no need for either to do much besides 'be themselves, but in space'.

And yet, I still feel a little let down by both, Pratt in particular. I’d really love to see what he could do with something outside his recently acquired comfort zone, but once again I’ve been left wanting. The first third of the movie is Jim by himself and just when things are looking suitably grim, Passengers wimps out and Jim’s obsession with Aurora is played for an ‘aww’, not an ‘eww’. Just when you think a discussion on male entitlement or the definition of murder is rearing up, it cowers instead. 

So, if it’s no good as a moral treatise, does it work as a cheerful holiday sci-fi? Well, the special effect set pieces are nice and the climax survives with minimal eye-rolling sentimentality, but a top-notch Thomas Newman score aside, there’s nothing that original going on, with many sequences feeling like half-hearted impressions of better movies. In a serious error of judgement, Tyldum attempts to evoke both Interstellar (time as the enemy, the psychological effects of being alone in space for years on end) and Danny Boyle’s Sunshine (the transit of a spaceship across the sun, only here it’s less reflective pause, more date night). It’s a collection of sci-fi bits n’ bobs slotted together into a uniformly attractive whole that trades darkness and debate for smiles and CGI.