Tag Archives: rating

This year I celebrated the death of the baby cheeses with a full veggie English, copious tea, a little people-watching and a Swedish film about preteen love and vampires.

I met Andrew and Matt for breakfast at Cazimir at 9:30 on Friday morning. I had already performed my good deed for the day, giving directions to some boy racers aiming for King’s College but the wrong side of the bollards on Bridge Street. Apart from them the roads were virtually empty, which goes to show that crucifixions aren’t all bad news.

We later re-educated Matt in the Apple store, hopefully ensuring another convert to a much more beneficial religion. Tea and cake followed in the Picturehouse bar where Andrew noticed that Let The Right One In had a performance an hour later. We were both interested to see it, so bought tickets.

It’s a coming-of-age film with a twist: one of the parties is a vampire, as becomes apparent very early on. But this is neither a comedy nor a Christopher Lee hamfest. There’s no garlic, no crucifixes and no priests, but there is blood-sucking and phobias of daylight and the uninvited crossing of thresholds. Oh, and apparently cats are accurate vampire detectors, much like dogs with zombies (have I mentioned how great World War Z is?).

The film’s set in a small housing estate in a Swedish town in the middle of winter. Oskar, a 12-year-old boy, is bullied at school and not fighting back. His parents are separated, his father lives out of town. Bleak, slow-paced, nicely shot. But then keep that same feel and insert the vampire elements. You get the daily grind – well, a vampire has to eat – mixed with a growing anxiety in the community at disappearances, and a growing friendship between Oskar and the 12-year-old androgynous girl, Eli, who lives next door.

It’s not a high-budget film but the fantastical elements essential to any vampire flick aren’t badly done. If anything the restrictions of the low budget enhance the feel of the film, as you don’t see everything in your face in huge, gory detail – except when you do. It’s all the more effective when it contrasts the sedate pace of the film overall.

The film’s adapted from a novel of the same name, which is going to be re-adapted by Cloverfield director Matt Reeves for an English-language version due for release next year. Given how the novel differs from the existing film (according to Wikipedia) it’ll be interesting to see what he does with the source material. All my instincts are saying he’ll ruin it.

I can confirm that Let The Right One In is my top pre-teen rom-vam Swedish-language film of 2009 so far.

Avaragado’s rating: one dandelion root

Although in my youth I read a lot of comics, I’d more or less given up by the time Watchmen appeared. Consequently the fuss passed me by; I was aware of it, I’m sure, but I never bought an issue. But now, never knowingly missing a bandwagon, I bought the graphic novel to read before I saw the film.

Naturally it sat unread along with all the other books I haven’t yet got round to, while I engaged in ritual procrastination activities. Eventually though it out-stared me and I picked it up. I read a chapter a night for a few days, enjoying it a lot. Then I missed a few days. Then it was Friday, and I was seeing the film the next day.

I read a chunk of the book on Friday evening, having a night in thanks to a persistent cough, but still had many chapters to go when I headed into town on Saturday morning. I took the book with me and read a chapter over lunch. Then, with three hours before the film, I parked myself in the Picturehouse bar with a pot of Earl Grey and made a concerted effort.

I turned the final page only an hour before the projector cranked up, and just as Chris and Melanie arrived.

Seeing the film just moments (well, minutes plus a cuppa) later was surreal. The images, fresh in my mind from the novel, were suddenly moving – and faithful to the original. Some shots were lifted straight from the page.

There are some liberties taken, of course, to fit the running time. I can’t say that any of the alterations are clunkers; some are improvements. A cunning title sequence in particular sets the scene for the film nicely, and a bit of helpful exposition about tachyons is brought forward significantly (that’ll be the, uh, tachyons). One big, small difference in the film: nobody smokes.

The, uh, stand-out character was always going to be Dr Manhattan due to his, uh, powers. He can subtract my intrinsic field any day. I have no idea what that means.

Ahem.

As a film about superheroes that isn’t a superhero film it’s very well done. As a film of a famous graphic novel it’s excellent.

Avaragado’s rating: one Mars bar

Quantum of Solace opens ten minutes after chucking out time at Casino Royale with a car chase that’s a million miles away from those of creaky old Roger Moore. Once upon a time you could lay money on a Bond film including a chase sequence where a clapped out old vehicle containing a clapped out old couple would be passed furiously by Bond + girl in a fully Q’d up sporty number, and then a few minutes later re-pass the smouldering wreck of same to general hilarity. Not so in Daniel Craig’s universe.

In QoS the emphasis is on grit rather than wit. It’s definitely Bond: a scattering of gadgets, cars, M, scenery and girls leaves you in no doubt. There are even some scenes classically reminiscent of the days of Connery, except without the hats. But this is a Bond post-Bourne: the pace about ten times quicker, the action about ten times more active, the direction about ten times as bewildering.

The product placement needed only neon pointy signs to be more obvious. A certain manufacturer of rubbish phones receives so much visibility I was expecting a “magical tracking system and impossible photo enhancement service sold separately” caption in some scenes. But that’s part of the fun.

Bond himself is a miserable git throughout; I suspect they cut a scene where he phones the Samaritans. We see more of Dame Judi M Dench’s home life than we ever did, or indeed wanted to, in the days of gruff old Bernard M Lee.

To me the film feels like the second in a trilogy, though I appear to be in the minority on that one. There are a few lines that suggest it, nothing overblown, just a hint. Bond will of course return in any case. Whether the producers choose one of the remaining unused Fleming titles I sincerely doubt; I believe they are Risico, The Property of a Lady, 007 in New York and The Hildebrand Rarity. Elements from some of those stories have been used in plots of previous Bond movies, but very few movies have stuck to the original story so that’s not a problem. (Quantum of Solace is an original Fleming title, but the story wasn’t about spying at all and barely includes Bond.)

My guess is that they’ll continue to reintroduce some of the “classic” Bond elements in the next film. Q is due a reappearance, though I’d rather he wasn’t John Cleese. I’ll see if I can make some time in my busy schedule. I eagerly await the offer from Barbara Broccoli or any of her vegetable friends.

Avaragado’s rating: one packet of smokey bacon crisps, and one cheese and onion

The plan was: meet up with Andrew mid-morning and head to Saturday Worship, AKA the Apple Store, to perve over the new MacBooks etc. Then at noon a quick drink with some newchums, Rich and Chris (musical brothers). Then maybe a quiet afternoon and evening in for a change, Friday night having been a late (but sober) one up the pub involving a Dalek/gay hybrid. Long story, not filthy.

Chris texted me at 9.30am, waking me up. Was I interested in seeing the new Coen Brothers film? Followed by food? Yeah, go on then. Easily persuaded. New plan: ditch the evening in.

Borders, Apple, wander, wander, B Bar (with very much the B team serving), tea. Rich and Chris, more tea. Lunch: posh mushrooms on posh toast. Lots of discussion about GarageBand, new Macs, and James Bond. Back to the Apple Store so Andrew could demo GarageBand to the brothers. Then to the Picturehouse for more tea, passing Stephen Hawking and his gang, who were probably just heading to the Grand Arcade to cause trouble and rough up the tourists with street talk about black holes and grand unified theories, bitches.

More tea at the Picturehouse, the four of us keenly anticipating Quantum of Solace and debating the merits of Shawshank Redemption vs Ghostbusters. There was little point going home now, since I’d just sit in the dark for about ten minutes before coming out again. New plan: wander around a bit more. I did, via Heffers, Borders and Waterstones (on a mission, which I failed), before returning to a much busier Picturehouse to meet up with the post-honeymoon newlyweds plus Louise, Adrian and Andy.

Burn After Reading. Reading the activity not the place, or any sequel might reasonably be called Turn Left Before Slough. All Coen brothers tickboxes duly completed, not a lot more to say really. Funny, quirky, really surprisingly shocking in parts (as in “I was shocked” not “shockingly bad”). Ultimately, though, a little unsatisfying and I’m not sure why. Perhaps the ending.

Avaragado’s rating: a small plate of macaroni cheese

Chris had thoughtfully booked a table for six at a new restaurant, Asia, on Regent Street. It’s pan-asian cuisine, so the more radical can have a Thai starter and an Indian main, if they so desire. We’d have settled for our table, to be honest. On arrival, smack on schedule, the place was full. The harassed maitre d’ suggested we wait for ten minutes, which we did – failing to get a drink at the bar as nobody would catch our eye, despite Chris’s fluttering about. Or perhaps because of. Anyway, we were then offered a temporary table, but it was one chair short.

It looked frankly unlikely that we’d get served before keeling over from starvation. So we legged it, which I’m sure they were happy about as it freed up a table. Instead we ventured further south on Regent Street to the Curry Garden, where another five minute wait on a temporary table taunted us with deja vu. We persevered and were seated and successfully served.

Of note: a table opposite of about twenty students, all of whom looked like they’d been dressed by their blind grandmothers. First week of term, nobody to stop them, I guess. Still, I’m sure they all thought they looked lovely.

Raiders of the Lost Ark was probably the last half-decent George Lucas film title. Everything since then – and by everything, of course I mean only Indiana Jones and Star Wars films – has had a rubbish title. RotJ, IJatToD, IJatLC, TPM, AotC, RotS and now IJatKotCS. Lucas has also now scandalously enclunked Raiders by calling it IJatRotLA on VHS and DVD.

Honestly, Indy 4 has an awful title. It’s true that a crystal skull is pretty much central to the storyline, but it’s such a neverending, pedestrian title. Would Jaws be seen as a classic if it were called Shark? Hard to tell; Forbidden Planet was a pretty blah title but nobody holds that against it (though Lucas would undoubtedly have called it Dr Morbius and the Invisible Space Monster). Bond titles like Goldfinger and The Man with the Golden Gun are pretty literal, but intriguing; Fleming also gave us You Only Live Twice and other great titles, including the upcoming Quantum of Solace (even if nobody else thinks it’s a good title, I do). And then you’ve got Snakes on a Plane.

I’m not sure what the point of that ramble is. Poorly titled films may be good or bad – AKA, don’t judge a book by its cover. Profound. I demand a PhD, or at least a GCSE in meeja studies.

Back to Indy. Indiana Jones and the Secret of Akator would, at least, have been an interesting and vaguely mysterious title. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull needs ultra-widescreen just to show the BBFC certificate.

But is the film any good? On the down side, nineteen years of development hell is never going to produce a masterpiece, and neither is George Lucas. On the up side, it’s Indy. You can forgive its faults.

The film naturally requires disbelief suspension dialled up to level 9, as did previous Indy films. There’s no point bitching about how Indy survives plot device A, as many people have been doing; in the Indy universe, religion is real – see RotLA and IJatLC – so maybe he just prays. All you can do is sit back and enjoy the ride.

It is a shame that, despite many stories stating how this would be an “old-style” film without heavy reliance on CGI, there’s an awful lot of it. For me, much of the drama was sucked out of the jungle chase set piece because it was so patently obvious they just weren’t there. Just because you can do anything with green screen or CGI body doubles, it doesn’t mean you should. You can make a film or a cartoon, not both (unless you’re, er, making both, like Mary Poppins and Bedknobs and Broomsticks). Oh dear, does that mean I’m turning into a film snob?

There is a plot to the film, though not one to tax the brain – place Macguffin A into Macguffin-slot B – but nobody’s expecting Memento, let’s face it. It’s all about the set pieces. Through the power of search-and-replace the by-numbers villains are Russians rather than Nazis this time, not that you’d notice any difference.

The film benefits in one respect, I think, from the near-twenty year hiatus: twenty years have passed in Indy’s life too, which gives the opportunity for some character progression (though this ain’t a character piece by any stretch of the imagination). And, of course, they leave open the prospect of a fifth film.

In another twenty years, when HoloLucas is churning out photo-real pure-CGI features using version fourteen of his computer-generated script software (version one having been beta tested on the Star Wars prequels), there’ll be plenty of room to fill in the gaps in Indy’s story. That’s assuming Harrison Ford Enterprises, Inc. licenses the star’s virtual self. There’ll probably be one film called Indiana Jones and his Amazing Adventures in the Pacific Theater of World War II, Episode One: OSS Recruitment and his First Astounding Mission to Save those Big Statues on Easter Island from the Rapidly Approaching Enemy Fleet. I may trademark it just in case.

Avaragado’s rating: one bad date

I have mixed feelings when watching films and TV shows set in the 1980s. Look at all those silly haircuts! Why did everyone look like they got dressed in the dark? WHERE OH WHERE DID MY YOUTH GO?

The eighties are a popular target for today’s film-makers as that’s when they grew up. Or “came of age” as they like to put it for some poncy reason, usually in a fake American accent voicing over all the best clips. That’s when today’s pros started making films themselves, using cine cameras or clunking great VHS video cameras the size of Cardiff.

For young amateur film-makers the must-watch of those halcyoff early Thatch days was TV’s Screen Test, where for most of the show bespectacled proto-nerds were probed by Brian Trueman (who replaced Michael Rodd) on excerpts from the latest blockbusters. (Except, as I remember, they were never the blockbusters we actually wanted to see – presumably the studios refused permission to show long clips. We watched anyway, hoping that this week, this week would be the week they’d show a clip from Star Wars.)

The quiz was, generally, tedious and overloaded with earnest Children’s Film Foundation tosh. But Screen Test’s Young Film-makers Competition was more interesting. My brother and I never created anything we deemed worthy of submission; shame, really, I think we could have done well. Some of the films they showed, I remember, were rubbish.

I’d like to have made a version of Poltergeist, the pirate video of which scared the bejebus out of me on several occasions (the soundtrack still sends a shiver down my spine). I’m not sure that would have been suitable for tea-time telly, though. And we’d have had trouble with the special effects. Today’s kids could knock up something like that over a long weekend and already be yesterday’s Internet meme by the following Thursday.

So yes. Eighties, Screen Test. Which brings me to Son of Rambow, in which an eighties scruff teams up with a religious extremistmember of the Plymouth Brethren, plus a French exchange student and sundry hangers-on, to make a film – Son of Rambow – for Screen Test, and Hilarity Ensues.

Less hilarity than I was expecting, though; it’s funny, yes, but deeper than that. It’s about how friends and family can collide.

Believable performances all round, I felt. Jessica StevensonHynes plays it straight as Religious Mum, and the two main child actors are pretty good. Adam Buxton has a humorous cameo, not quite as gory as his role in Hot Fuzz.

There are a few authentic scenes from Screen Test in the film: in one of them we see the young film-maker trophy being awarded to some geeky speccy chap. That, it turns out, was Jan Pinkava: he went on to win an Oscar and co-direct Pixar’s recent Ratatouille. Yeah. Geek.

That could have been me, you know. I coulda been a contender. Had I actually entered.

Avaragado’s rating: one Kia-Ora multipack