Tag Archives: rating

“Oh, there’s a bit in it that’ll really make you jump,” said the Picturehouse barman as he handed Chris five tickets for The Orphanage (along with the more traditional bar fare, a bottle of wine). A comment like that sets you on edge before the film even begins, albeit an edge dulled by half a bottle of Pinot. But the unspoken implication of such a statement is that there is only one spring-loaded moment.

That’s not a bad thing (nor, in fact, was it strictly true in any case). Too many random shocks and you’re either laughing from the ridiculousness or shrieking in a self-made puddle and being led out by the St John’s Ambulance, depending on temperament. The scary moments are the ones you’re waiting for, the ones in plain sight: it’s all anticipation, of course. (The scariest parts of BBC classic Ghostwatch are the scenes where you happen to spot Pipes subtly inserted into the background.)

The Orphanage scores quite highly on the anticipation scale. The orphanage of the title is now owned by a small family; the mother used to be housed there. She and her husband have an adopted child, who has several imaginary friends. But just how imaginary are they? Who is the woman with the thick glasses? And why do they all speak Spanish?

Well, it’s a Spanish film, produced by Guillermo Del Toro. There’s a pointless American remake in production for people unable to cope with subtitles or without casual violence.

We saw it with a talkative audience, but in a good way: the odd “oh no!” heightens the tension.

Without giving anything away, it’s a film about loss. It contains no haunted videotapes or rabid emos climbing out of TVs, but it does contain the creepiest children’s game you’ll see this year.

Avaragado’s rating: five blueberry muffins

A British film about teenage pregnancy would feature the following:

• Bleak, run-down council estates sprinkled with Sky dishes.
• Chain-smoking from all cast members, including the unborn child.
• Kathy Burke.

The “gymslip mum” (© Fleet Street) would grunt monosyllables at the father, a half-tracksuit, half-trainer oik prone to casual violence. A hopelessly miscast Lee Evans would play a well-to-do city type, wrongly named in standard mistaken-identity plot #94 as the baby’s father – with hilarious consequences. The ham-fisted resolution would include a guest appearance by Richard Branson and a pile of used tenners.

Juno, on the other hand, is a Canadian/American film about teenage pregnancy. Made for tuppence, it’s nominated for four Oscars including Best Picture. There’s a Best Actress nomination for Ellen Page’s excellent portrayal of the title up-the-duff character.

I think the film’s operative words are “sweet” and “sassy”. It’s written by someone called Diablo Cody, which is surely all the incentive you need to go and see it. If that’s not enough, two of the cast were in Arrested Development.

Three films in three weeks, all of them crackers. It can’t last!

Avaragado’s rating: four things of orange tic-tacs

This year marks the 75th anniversary of the original King Kong film, the 50th anniversary of Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, and the 25th anniversary of Jaws 3-D. Mix them together and stir in a camcorder and you’ve got the first draft of Cloverfield.

King Kong is, of course, a love story; and so is Cloverfield. The creature wreaking havoc in New York is but a monstrous and very expensive macguffin providing the framework for the storyline, a traditional boy meets/loses girl. A very effective macguffin, it has to be said.

Attack of etc concerns a large, unhappy creature; as does Cloverfield. The film contains a great deal of attacking, and I’m sure you’ve seen the clip in which the head of the Statue of Liberty – a tall glum female – splats various residents as it bounces to a halt in a city street.

Jaws 3-D gave people nausea from 3D glasses; Cloverfield does ditto from authentic handheld camerawork.

There are naturally many differences. Cloverfield contains none of King Kong’s biplanes on strings. The large creature is always big, unlike Attack of etc or indeed the kitten from The Goodies or the sheepdog in Digby, the Biggest Dog in the World. And unlike Jaws 3-D, Cloverfield is not rubbish.

It’s exceedingly well-made. The camcorder viewpoint is maintained from the first frame until the start of the closing credits; there’s no film score, lots of odd jump cuts, poor framing, etc. And the effects fit seamlessly – I’d really like to see some of the original footage just to see how they mangled it.

Apparently some critics proclaimed that using unknown actors was a big mistake. Idiots. It was essential to keep the truthiness of the film. And, really, the only effects of casting Tom Cruise or some other loon would be to double the budget and ruin the film.

On the down side, there were a couple of dodgy product NOKIA placements and a general implausibility of certain events (leaving aside the whole creature thing).

But overall, recommended. J. J. Abrams wisely chose Kong, Woman and D as his 25-year influences for Cloverfield: 1933 also brought us Duck Soup, 1958 South Pacific and 1983 National Lampoon’s Vacation. I dread to think what his mash-up of those three would be like. The new Star Trek film, probably.

Avaragado’s rating: four tubs of St Ivel Gold

With yer Radcliffes and yer Grints of this world growing up into not-quite-as-rubbish actors in the cash machine that I am legally obliged to call the Potter phenomenon, there’s a new set of kids on the block. No, not the tedious Narnia tosh again, at least not yet; now we’ve got the parallel world of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy, as realised in The Golden Compass (Northern Lights being too subtle a title for the U. S. of etc., or maybe they were worried about possible confusion with the 1985 “Canadian supergroup” of the same name).

I do read books, honestly, but I haven’t read Northern Lights. I may get round to it some day, since I have a soft spot for the parallel universe/alternate history genre. However, I suspect that day should have been before yesterday, when I saw the film along with Chris, Melanie, Louise and Mikey.

Unlike JK’s oeuvre, not I understand deeply troubled by the wonders of a multi-layered storyline, there’s a well-known religious allegory in Pullman’s work. And, praise be to Dawkins, it’s not the CS Lewis perspective of magically resurrecting lions seducing buck-toothed children through the preaching of dental treatment or whatever it was. Here we’ve got talking animal demons and a good old adventure romp for the kids, with the talky intrigue and allegory to keep the sniffy grown-ups amused.

But there are flaws in the film: kids, dialogue, pacing. The kid problem is the usual one: I don’t think there’s a convincing British child actor under 13. We don’t have any Dakota Fannings or Haley Joel Osments, sadly. The lead actor, Dakota Blue Richards (what’s with all the Dakotas?), isn’t bad but isn’t that great either.

The dialogue is generally OK, but every now and then it goes a bit Basil Exposition. And I think it does so because they wanted to keep the pace up: cutting the “boring bits” to the bone to keep the running time under two hours. That being, I presume, the maximum time between toilet visits for overexcited preteens. Consequently the film feels a little rushed.

In the cinema I was pleased to note the general absence of noisy kids. Only one screamer dragged out temporarily by a harassed parental unit, but then I too would have been scared aged fourish by the sight of armoured polar bears yards from a front row seat. I did hear a constant subdued commentary from some mini-Motty girls old enough to know better in the row behind us, though it was not enough to rouse me from my traditional British reserve.

As is now apparently law for all film trilogies, there’s an appearance by Christopher Lee. Bizarrely only a single line. I don’t believe he was CGI, though as Mikey said, they’ve probably scanned every inch of him in case he’s, er, corporeally unavailable for sequels.

Though not confirmed, I assume this film will be followed up with adaptations of the other two books. It’s interesting and exciting enough to earn back its $180 million budget (Charlie Chaplin used to make his films alone, you know, for a farthing and a bowl of porridge). And I’d like to see what happens next. Or maybe I should just read the books?

Avaragado’s rating: four gobstoppers

On Saturday night at the Picturehouse we saw Sicko, Michael Moore’s new documentary about the glorious American healthcare system. Part-way through it turns into NHS-worship and Tony Benn is wheeled on to offer an opinion. Then there’s some French healthcare analysis that includes a man’s bottom. Apparently in France you get paid time off work for almost every conceivable activity, including moving house and going on honeymoon.

Moore’s usual tactics are in evidence as he takes some 9/11-affected Americans to Cuba for treatment. He’s typically befuddled-to-order by the horrific spectacle of socialised medicine and its dastardly “free at the point of use” ethic, clearly not the American Way. A short-cut to communist rule, according to sundry fat American cats rolling in the bloodstained cash and discarded body parts of privatised healthcare.

One-sided, of course: nobody could accuse Michael Moore of balance. But true nonetheless. We grumble about the NHS and its problems, but it’s far far better than the US system.

Three days after seeing the film I woke with a cold, the first I’ve had all year I think. I suspect doctors may have sprinkled vials of unidentifiable substances on the cinema seats to make us appreciate the NHS a bit more.

Avaragado’s rating: one bottle of Night Nurse

Last night saw a trip to Cambridge’s very own Wagamama before nine of us squeezed into a half-empty cinema for Once (caution: unmarked spoilers), the best and probably only Irish musical since The Commitments.

One of the characters in The Commitments was played by Glen Hansard, who stars in Once alongside Markéta Irglová. They’re both musicians rather than ac-tors, Hansard being lead singer/guitarist of popular Irish beat combo The Frames.

Glen Hansard is also a friend of Isobel, one of the nine of us at the film; they’re both from Dublin, where the film was shot. Isobel works with Andy and Louise at Qualcomm; her other half Simon works at Taptu with Neil, with whom I worked at ANT.

To complete the circle, Andy, Chris, Melanie, Chef, Lynda and I are going to Dublin for a weekend in December to see Ross, who turns 30 at the end of the year.

I’ll do a diagram later if you want. I think that means we qualify for Baftas.

It’s a very naturalistic film, shot on a budget that wouldn’t cover Tom Cruise’s toenail polish. No studio sets, no special lighting, no crowd control. Some street scenes were filmed with long lenses (and without permits), passers-by oblivious to the acting.

There’s a slight documentary feel about it – until the songs kick in. But unlike yer Sound of Musics or yer Bollywoods, the songs are built into the story. The cast don’t drop everything and start supercalifragilisticexpialidociousing with comedy chimney sweeps: the plot revolves around our (unnamed) male protagonist’s ambitions for a singing career, and our (unnamed) female protagonist’s assistance. And it’s a love story, of course.

Hansard and Irglová together wrote almost all the songs, and they’re pretty good. YouTube’s full of examples; give Taptu a whirl.

Definitely one of my films of the year. I look forward to any sequel, undoubtedly called Twice. Hahaha.

Avaragado’s rating: nine potatoes