The Greatest Trick

Oh boy. Never did I realise that this was in fact a DTV pile of poo disguised as a Hollywood movie. Never before have I wished so violently that someone would just break every violin in the orchestra playing the score. And never before have I cared so little about characters dying.

The Andrea Gail is a sword-fishing trawler which sets out at short notice in an attempt to find the biggest haul of fish that it can. Leading the trip are Captain No-Personality (George Clooney), with Young Rookie Man (Mark Wahlberg), Gruff but Sensitive Man (John C Reilly), Bad Egg Man, Ugly Man and Dispensible Character Man in tow. They all love their captain (in some moments it’s faintly homoerotic), which is why they are stupidly willing to go with him into practically uncharted waters where a big old storm is brewing. Meanwhile their wives, girlfriends, children and people who barely know their names are left at home rubbing their hands together with worry. For the whole film.

The film is based on a true story - the Andrea Gail never did return to Gloucester, Massachusets after being caught in a freak storm in 1991, and the fact that all those on board died is a tragedy. But frankly, so is the fact that their memory is supposedly being honoured by this boring, messy film, in which all the money has been spent on (admittedly good) special effects to make the waves look big and nasty, a fair whack on Warner Bros’ water rates I would imagine, but none on writing a script which caused you to care about any of the characters. In fact, the crew of the coast guard rescue helicopter which we kept inexplicably seeing were more engaging than the crew of the Andrea Gail. The problem with knowing it’s a true story before you watch it is that you know the ending. It should therefore at least be interesting to see how it gets there, but this movie fails abysmally. When one character has to be resuscitated after falling in the sea, I found myself comparing the scene to the resuscitation scene in the Abyss: this movie pales in comparison. I simply couldn’t care less whether he lived or died.

Now, this grudge might sound a little odd, because it is rare for a movie script to only contain ‘realistic’ dialogue, but The Perfect Storm really took the biscuit. In an emergency situation, how many hard-living business-minded fishermen/women do you imagine would exclaim down the radio, “You’re sailing into the middle of the monster!”? There were whole swathes of dialogue where characters were talking and I had no idea what they were going on about, nor did I care, and at some points nor could I hear them! More on the music later… There were cliches involving dreams, letters being read, characters’ thoughts being transmitted to their loved ones via the power of magic or something, and so many odd directorial decisions that I began wondering if this was the same Wolfgang Petersen who had directed another, infinitely superior boat movie, Das Boot, about life aboard a German submarine during WWII. But sadly, yes, the IMDb confirms that it is.

And finally, why oh why do people keep employing James Horner to compose their scores? All the man seems able to do is bathe everything in cloying strings, no matter what the situation on screen (see Titanic for further proof. Or alternatively, don’t bother. It’s mostly crap too. Hmm, spotting a pattern here… Disaster in water + James Horner = terrible film with exception of special effects). There were times when I thought he had composed the music without watching the film. The strings just kept going. And kept going. They swelled. They quietened. They swelled again. Only once was I aware of them not being there, and that was because the characters were listening to some RAWK on their tinny radio. Was Petersen really happy with this? I find it hard to believe.

Everything about this movie screams ‘we deserve Oscars’; thank goodness it only got nominated for two and didn’t win them. There is some justice at the Oscars after all.

Four men hijack a subway train, and demand $1 million from the city of New York within the hour, otherwise they start killing one of their 18 hostages for each minute the money doesn’t arrive. That is the high concept plot of this tense little movie, which brings political satire, racism, sexism and colour-coded aliases (we all knew Mr Tarantino was derivative, and here’s the proof) and throws them all at Walther Matthau and Robert Shaw (among others, including Ben Stiller’s dad Jerry and Matthew Broderick’s dad James) to see what sticks. The result is a sharp and witty movie which says a lot about the political climate of 1974, and gives a rollicking ride along the way.

The way I found myself watching this movie was to compare it with how it might be made today. Firstly, the treatment of blacks and women would be seriously revised, although the film itself doesn’t mistreat them, only characters within it, and this is appropriate to the era. And in fact, Walther Matthau’s Transit Police Chief, Zachary Garber, is so conscious of these issues needing to be addressed that he comes out with some highly amusing lines. For example, throughout the movie he has been communicating with black New York City Cop Inspector Davies. When he finally meets Davies, he greets him with, “Oh hi, I, er, thought you were, er, a small guy or something.” One of the mysteries in the movie is which of the hostages is in fact a plain clothes cop; Garber is so convinced that this cop might be a woman that he continually stresses the importance of allowing for this in terms of the cop’s ability to handle the situation (inner thoughts revealed: I know that there are plenty of women on the force now, but they can’t possibly deal with things as well as men). I found all this fascinating and appropriate; watching characters who are trying to work through their prejudices is far more interesting than simply being appalled at bigots spouting off. In fact, the one character like that is killed off fairly quickly. Make of that what you will.

The issue of the cop among the hostages is done brilliantly too. In a movie made today, the audience would be told who it was via editing, the information would somehow get into the subway train and there would be ‘is it you?’, ‘is it him?’ type situations, and the character would probably do a John McClane and attempt to do something to take the hijackers down. Thank goodness none of this happens. You barely even see a shot of the passenger in question before the reveal takes place. Another difference to ‘how the film would be in the noughties’ is in the humour; there is no way a character trying to move passengers would be heard shouting this line down the phone today: “What do you mean there’s no buses? There are plenty of buses - go out and hijack some!” And would this kind of lack of care about people be allowed to be expressed in a modern movie?: “Screw the goddamn passengers! What do they want for their thirty-five cents? To live forever??”

Another thing I loved about this movie was its cynicism regarding political systems. The mayor is ill in bed when news of the hostage situation reaches him, and he simply doesn’t want to deal with it. Bullied into making a decision by his deputy, he plumps for the only way he can decide with any certainty: how it will affect his popularity. Pre-”we do not negotiate with terrorists”, seeing this is a breath of fresh air; everybody knows that every President/Prime Minister/authority figure put into a situation like this has his/her mind partly on how the response will look to the voters, but it’s a blessing to see a movie come out and say it so boldly.

I haven’t read many reviews of this movie that weren’t mainly positive; I also haven’t read many that commented on the use of language in the film. One of the characters says at one point that he doesn’t know how you can run a railroad without swearing, and it is the subway operators who prove this continuously, blaspheming to their hearts’ content. But interestingly, the characters who matter most to the audience do not tend to do this; it’s almost like scriptwriter Peter Stone understood that the characters he wanted to be popular in the movie needed to adjust the way they spoke to endear them to the audience. And it works brilliantly. So while I do prefer to watch movies without my ears being assaulted by the language, the swearing or lack of it actually makes a point in this movie.

And what is important to remember alongside all these ‘issues’, is that this is a great ticking-clock movie. The threat of death for the hostages is real, and as we see the cops desperately working out how to resolve the situation, we feel the tension right along with them. The film maintained its energy throughout, even though a large part of the movie was simply waiting for the hour to be up, and you never ever felt bored. I am totally convinced that the golden age of American cinema was the 1970s, and this is a prime example of gritty, politically aware film-making that delivers on thrills and humour too. Where has this kind of movie gone?

One of my annual traditions is to select what I feel to be the 10 best films of the year. 2005 has been solid although nothing released in the last twelve months is likely to end up in my all-time-favourites list (with the potential exception of King Kong). Exactly what constitutes a Simon Dillon “all-time-favourite” is a discussion for another time.

So what have I omitted? For a start, Tim Burton’s take on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. It was good, but competition for space was too strong to allow it. Batman Begins and War of the Worlds were both first-rate blockbusters, but there were two other blockbusters I preferred. The Descent forfeits a place for its silly and gory mid-section, despite a chilling first hour and a stunningly disturbing finale. Neither did I include the deliciously demented Night Watch, another horror/fantasy tale that whilst hugely appealing to the likes of me, will have limited appeal elsewhere. Finally, although Cinderella Man was good, a certain other boxing film was better.

There are also a good half a dozen or so key films that – shockingly – I have not yet seen, including Sideways, The Machinist, Friday Night Lights and Downfall. I suspect any of these could well have ousted one or more of my final selection, but I won’t know until I get round to watching them. In the meantime, without further ado, here are my ten best films of 2005 from those I have seen, in no particular order of merit:

The Aviator – Leonardo Dicaprio gives his finest performance to date in this biopic of eccentric billionaire Howard Hughes. Martin Scorsese’s best film since Goodfellas.

Hotel Rwanda – Not in the same league as Schindler’s List, but nevertheless an essential, riveting and powerful story of the difference one man made during the 1994 Rwandan genocide.

Ray – Jamie Foxx’s stunning performance is actually not the main reason to see this terrific biopic of music legend Ray Charles. Director Taylor Hackford deserves most of the credit.

Revenge of the Sith – Easily the best of the Star Wars prequels, and a devastating tragedy in its own right.

Crash – Fascinating and multi-layered look at racism in Los Angeles.

Lord of War – Savage and tragic satire on the arms trade with a stand-out performance from Nicholas Cage.

Million Dollar Baby – Despite the film’s abhorrent stance on euthanasia, I cannot overlook Clint Eastwood’s recent masterpiece as it is such brilliant filmmaking.

The Constant Gardener – Slow-burning, but riveting thriller featuring one of Ralph Fiennes best performances.

King Kong – Peter Jackson’s overblown, overlong, self-indulgent but magnificent remake of the 1933 classic.

Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit – How could I not include this? I still prefer the short films, but this is my contender for best family film of the year.

Happy Christmas!

Simon Dillon, December 2005.

Many of you may feel that it’s redundant to review movies that are this old or in fact that are, for some, more about tradition than taste. However, I know that this isn’t considered necessary viewing in the way that, say, Mary Poppins or It’s a Wonderful Life are, so some of you may have missed this one. If, like me, your Christmas wrapping takes more than the one evening these days you could do worse than to watch this while you get those last bits done.

First off, we have to be honest: this is a musical built purely around one song, that had already featured in another movie. So don’t expect a plot to rival War and Peace or anything, but if musicals are your thing then go with it- it’s fun, the characters are endearing, the comedy is sharper than you might imagine, and it features some stonking numbers!

The basic plot goes something like this: During WW2 the life of a famous performer (Bing Crosby) is saved by a wannabe songwriter (Danny Kaye), when they return to the US of A they team up, enjoy incredible success and develop a producing partnership- The Great Wallis and Davis. The only thing missing in both of their lives is that special someone. Cue two pretty sisters on their way to Vermont for Christmas (Rosemary Clooney & Vera-Ellen.) The twist is that the Ski-lodge these girls are booked to sing at is owned by none other than the General that Wallis & Davis served under, and he’s in a spot of financial difficulty due to the fact that there’s no snow in Vermont…

Okay, we know that the answer is to ‘put on a show’ and we know that there will undoubtedly be a White Christmas in the end, but the fun is how we get there. Big numbers like Choreography and the ‘Mandy’ section of the Minstrel Show* are vibrant, impressive, and downright fun. And no one could deny that Rosemary Clooney’s Love, You didn’t do right by me is still pretty classy, and maybe even a little bit sexy.

What I like about this movie is that the central romance isn’t between the hot young dancers, but is a stupidly slow and clumsy non-starter between the two more mature leads (Crosby & Clooney.) It’s refreshing to watch, and it gives the ‘younger’ couple the chance to behave rather foolishly in an effort to force this relationship into fruition. And the post-war theme runs pretty deep; the Irving Berlin songs are great, and the leads are perfectly cast, but the stuff with General Waverly is what makes it for me. I dig out my video(!) every year, and without fail the look on his face at the end makes me cry. Just sing ‘We’ll follow the old man wherever he wants to go…’ and watch me bawl!

Even Mark will watch it with me, and he doesn’t like musicals as a general rule so maybe you could give at least give it a try? Go on, you know you want to…

*(no, not an abhorrantly racist show, but a nostalgic number about variety shows)

Have you ever wondered what would have happened if Cher hadn’t been quite so succesful as a solo singer? Or what your favourite rock group might have been like if they performed in a different genre? Say, folk music? Well, this movie contains the answers to those vital questions. Most people will be most familiar with Christopher Guest, Michael McKean and Harry Shearer together as Spinal Tap, the incompetent imploding English rock group (whose amps go up to 11) captured so memorably in the ‘mockumentary’ This is Spinal Tap by Rob Reiner in 1984. What you get in A Mighty Wind is kind of the same, but a bit grown up. Just like the three main performers.

Irving Steinbloom, a concert promoter important to the 1960s folk scene, has just died, and the groups he helped to shoot to stardom want to get back together for a tribute concert to the great man. The film follows the re-uniting of The Folksmen (the aforementioned Guest, McKean and Shearer), Mitch & Mickey (quite clearly modelled on Sonny & Cher) and the Main Street Singers, who are now in fact The New Main Street Singers, and generally regarded as frivolous fluff by the other performers. We see the bands recruit new members, rehearse old tunes and relive past loves as they make their way towards the concert in the Town Hall, with egos and eccentricity at the forefront.

Written by Guest and Eugene Levy, who also performs brilliantly as the demented-through-success-and-failure Mitch, the film takes fairly gentle and affectionate pot-shots at the foibles of musicians, and the cliches of the folk scene in particular. Unfortunately it also feels the need to include a fair amount of sexual references which I’m certain could have been omitted in favour of something funnier, but taken as a whole the script is warm and uncynical. What’s more, all the songs performed by the folk groups were written by McKean and Guest, with considerable authenticity - in fact, this is perhaps one of the problems with the film. When the groups are finally seen performing at the concert at the end, they are almost too slick, and the sharpness of the parody is lost sightly.

There are some standout performances and great characters, from Eugene Levy’s stuttering Mitch to the incredibly low-voiced Harry Shearer (sounding particularly like alter ego Reverend Lovejoy in this role), and one incessantly chirpy female member of the New Main Street Singers with her nonsensical alternative religion (based on the feelings she gets from certain colours - and she states quite seriously that it only exists in her head). But at the same time you get the feeling that some jokes will only be got fully by those who were around at the time of the 1960s folk explosion; we can laugh at the titles of old-fashioned folk albums, but it seems likely that these kinds of digs are deeper than at first sight.

On the whole, if you loved Spinal Tap, or Drop Dead Gorgeous, you’ll enjoy this. It doesn’t have anything like the bite of those two movies, but is not an unpleasant way to spend an evening.

When Back to the Future was screened on Christmas Day several years ago, my father commented on the hypocrisy of BBC censors who edited out expressions such as “holy sh*t” and left in misuses of Christ’s name. He remarked, rather amusingly, “Whose birthday is it after all? I don’t have a problem with holy sh*t!” Likewise, it is a great shame Peter Jackson’s King Kong contains several instances of the Lord’s name taken in vain. I have no problem with such language where dramatically necessary (a good example is found in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade), but here it is utterly gratuitous.

That bad news out of the way, hold on to your hats for a blast of unprecedented hyperbole. Apart from the afore-mentioned profanity, Peter Jackson’s King Kong is better than the original. That’s not something I say lightly. As a huge fan of all things Kong (heck, I even have a soft spot for the not-as-bad-as-everyone-says 1976 version), the 1933 original was something of a sacred cow to me. When I heard Peter Jackson was remaking it, I would have been sceptical had it been in the hands of any other director. But because Jackson had already done the impossible and made a screen version of The Lord of the Rings every bit as satisfying as the books, I decided his take could be worth a look. What I did not expect was that it would not only live up to the original film but surpass it in almost every respect. Jackson’s Kong is a strong contender for the best remake ever, all the more impressive for the fact the original is such a bona-fide classic.

For those of you who don’t know the story, filmmaker Carl Denham finds an unlikely leading lady Ann Darrow, an out of work theatre actress, and persuades her to set sail with him to an uncharted island to shoot his latest picture. Unfortunately, said island contains a tribe of natives who regularly sacrifice girls to their god, who turns out to be a giant 25 foot gorilla, King Kong. No prizes for guessing who is next on Kong’s menu. However, once Ann is in Kong’s clutches, the hairy beast doesn’t eat her, but instead falls in love.

Merian C Cooper’s original film was a simple, no-nonsense rip-roaring adventure which once Kong appeared, never let up for a second of its trim 100 minute running time. It was a monumental film which took many decades to surpass and even today holds up brilliantly. By contrast, Jackson’s is a sprawling, self-indulgent, overlong and completely over-the-top 187 minute marathon, yet, it is also absolutely fantastic. Complaining that his Kong is overblown in like moaning there’s too much water in the Atlantic, that the Eiffel Tower is too tall or that there are too many stars in space. Sure, some of it could have been cut, but why would one want to?

The new version opens in a leisurely fashion, having the courage to take its time and establish Depression era New York, the characters, and the voyage to Skull Island. Wisely opting to set the film in 1933 (the year the original was set) Jackson also allows himself a couple amusing film buff in-jokes. Denham tells his assistant Fay Wray is unavailable as she’s shooting a new picture with Cooper, and later he films Ann spouting dialogue on the boat identical to that of a scene in the ‘33 Kong. It’s all very nudge-nudge wink-wink to fans of the original.

Yet, when the action kicks in, everything including the kitchen sink is thrown in for the sake of an entertaining show. For a start, there’s a great fog sequence where the ship has to avoid rocks that bear an uncanny resemblance to Kong. Then, the natives turn out to be more like zombie-orcs and are very scary indeed as they sacrifice Ann to Kong. By the way, Kong’s first appearance is as memorable as in the original.

The second hour is jam-packed with boys-own adventure thrills and chills as our heroes pursue Kong and Ann, encountering a brontosaurus stampede, velociraptors, giant bugs, and huge vampire bats. Best of all, Kong faces off against not one but three T-rexes in a stunning battle to protect Ann (look out for an amazing “it’s behind you” shot).

Eventually of course, Ann is rescued and Kong is captured, but not before she forms a unique bond with the beast. The final act of the film takes place back in New York where Denham unveils Kong to the world and, inevitably, he escapes. Cue the famous tragic finale with biplanes atop the Empire State building, which is every bit as exciting as the original, and far more moving.

Jackson’s Kong is a melancholy beast, scarred, bruised and aware he is the last of his kind, as the eerie giant gorrila skeletons in his lair indicate. Yet the way Ann makes him laugh by performing one of her stage routines immediately makes him more endearing than the Kong of the original. As their relationship develops, a genuine sense of pathos is built into the excellent screenplay. One moment is hands-down my favourite scene of the year – a brilliant, delightful, and heart-rending moment in a frozen Central Park which is far too good to spoil. Besides no amount of description could do it justice, you have to experience it yourself. By the way, I urge you to see it on the biggest screen you can find.

The film is not without flaws. There are a number of redundant character set-ups that never resolve themselves, particularly involving Jamie Bell’s character. The zombie natives all seem to vanish without a trace after act one. Plus exactly how Ann survives her gruelling ordeal on Skull Island with no broken bones or dirt on her dress is frankly beyond me. However, such nitpicking pales into insignificance in the face of such wonderful spectacle. Although the effects (rightly) dominate the story, there is some good acting to write home about. Jack Black was a surprisingly wise choice for the opportunistic Denham, Adrian Brody is fine as love interest and playwright Jack Driscoll, and Naomi Watts is absolutely outstanding as Ann - every bit as good as Fay Wray, if not better. Her performance is so tender and heartbreaking if it was up to me I’d give her an Oscar (not that she stands a chance of winning - acting in fantasy films no matter how well is a thankless task).

It seems completely redundant to say the special effects are staggering yet Andy Serkis motion capture as Kong is so outstanding it evokes wonder beyond anything seen on the big screen since – well, The Lord of the Rings. One or two shots in the brontosaurus stampede don’t quite convince, but these are small potatoes compared with the amazing Kong footage. One thing I did slightly miss from the original was the way Kong merrily chomped on natives and New Yorkers, using them as dental floss and tramping them into the ground. Those scenes never fail to fill me with childish glee, but in this version such casual savagery has understandably been omitted to allow the story to have more emotional weight. Oh well, one can’t have everything.

It’s also amusing to see Howard Shore in a cameo as an orchestra conductor, considering he was subsequently replaced by James Newton Howard as composer on the film (he and Jackson had creative differences on which direction the music should take). As it stands, the music score cleverly evokes Max Steiner’s original whilst being a fine piece of work in its own right, which is all the more remarkable considering James Newton Howard was recruited at the last minute.

This has been an unusually long review, but then it is an unusually long, and unusually good film. It’s just a shame they couldn’t have removed the profanity. If there must be gratuitous swearing, I can only echo my father’s sentiments; I haven’t got a problem with holy sh*t.

Simon Dillon, December 2005.

First up, if you haven’t seen the first one I’d better explain that the ‘Bourne‘ of the title is Jason Bourne, an amnesiac American spy who’s on the run after a botched mission set up by his crooked superior. While the first one deals with him discovering who he is/was before he lost his memory, this one is more concerned with what he may or may not have done in the past. Cue inevitable reveal of another dirty agent after a nifty little attempt at framing and assassinating Bourne. So, Bourne has to prove his innocence, find the bad guy, get to the bottom of the flashbacks that are plaguing him, and mourn a significant loss- all without being found by the American (or any other) authorities.

This is a solid enough Friday night film- more plot than your average action movie, more gadgets and set-pieces than your average thriller. Bourne is an interesting lead character, and Matt Damon fits the role nicely. Good support comes from a youthful-looking Joan Allen (The Contender), a suitably moody Karl Urban (Eomer, LOTR) and a brief return for Franka Potente (Run Lola Run.) There are plenty of car chases and shootouts to keep you entertained, and some neat direction, but what I liked about this movie was the way Bourne’s character development is what drives the movie, ‘tortured’ doesn’t automatically mean crazy, whiney or irrational here, and the backstory itself is quite compelling.

Most reviews seem to mention a certain British Superspy, but I can’t really see the point in making any comparisons, the only thing I will say is that there’s a lot more emphasis on story here, and a down-right positive view of women that is lacking in even the most recent Bonds.

I probably wouldn’t go out of my way to watch this again, but I’d never switch it off I stumbled across it on TV either. Obviously this film contains some blood and violence, and I ought to just mention that there’s one fist-fight in particular that is pretty full-on, but over all it’s quite tame for a movie of the genre.

Apparently CS Lewis once said that he never wanted Narnia stories turned into films, as this would result in “buffoonery”. However, Lewis lived in a pre-CGI world. It’s hard to imagine he would have been upset about Andrew Adamson’s adaptation, although I’m sure he would have picked a few nits.

For those of you who have had deprived childhoods, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is based on the children’s book by CS Lewis, which has become a perennial favourite for many generations. It tells of four wartime evacuee children Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy who are sent to live in a country house with a mysterious but kindly old professor. Here they discover a wardrobe that transports them into the magical world of Narnia – a world of talking animals ruled by the evil White Witch who has cast her frosty spell over the whole country so that it’s always winter but never Christmas. The arrival of the four children has been foretold as the event that will bring about her downfall, and the return of the Great Lion Aslan, the true King of Narnia.

So is it any good? Well, for the most part yes. This is as fine an adaptation as one could probably hope for and as such is a good piece of family entertainment. Unlike the Harry Potter films, the filmmakers haven’t been afraid of reinventing where necessary, and in some places they actually improve on the novel. For example, the opening during the Blitz immediately establishes the children’s characters very well, nicely foreshadowing key events, particularly involving Edmund. Each of the children is given a character arc that is frankly more interesting than those in the book. Peter, frustrated by being too young to fight in World War II, finds age is not an issue in the war against the White Witch. Susan finds that being grown-up and clever doesn’t help much in Narnia, and Lucy is wiser and braver than she was in print. Edmund remains the most interesting character of the four. As he succumbs to narcotic Turkish delight, his cowardice, deception and betrayal is enhanced even further by the well-judged screenplay.

The performances from the children – Georgie Henley, Skandar Keynes, William Moseley, and Anna Popplewell as Lucy, Edmund, Peter and Susan respectively – are all good, but not remarkable. Thankfully they are far more convincing that their counterparts in the early Potter films, but they are nowhere near the exceptional level of, say, Henry Thomas in ET, Haley Joel Osmond in The Sixth Sense or Freddie Highmore in Finding Neverland. Liam Neeson does a good job voicing Aslan, Ray Winstone and Dawn French have fun as Mr and Mrs Beaver, and James McAvoy makes a memorable Mr Tumnus the Faun. Best of all is Tilda Swinton as the White Witch, who doesn’t resort to clichéd cackling and shouting, but instead plays the part with understated menace and icy stares which are far more likely to scare children.

It must be said however, that the special effects are not always special. In some cases they are excellent (the Beavers for instance) but in other places, particularly during the final battle, they are not quite believable. Whilst on the subject of battles, its best to get the inevitable (and unfair) Lord of the Rings comparisons out of the way. No, it’s not anywhere near that dynamic or groundbreaking, but the Narnia Chronicles have always been a very different beast to Tolkien’s epic. This is a relatively simple story, mostly built around an extended chase. In that sense, it’s far more comparable to The Wizard of Oz or Alice in Wonderland. Also, whereas the Rings films (and books) were clearly aimed at adults, this is aimed squarely at children so instead of the muted colours and dark tone of Jackson’s adaptation, Adamson wisely opts for bright colours and opulence.

Unless you have been hiding under a rock, you will know the Narnia stories are often regarded as a Biblical allegory, with Aslan symbolising Jesus Christ. Not true. As CS Lewis himself said, Aslan is not intended to be an allegory of Christ, Aslan is Christ, or Christ how he would appear in a world filled with talking animals. At the end of the fifth book in the Narnia stories, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, this is made completely clear. Peter and Susan are told by Aslan they will see him back in their own world but that he has a different name there. The reason they came to Narnia was to get to know him in their own world. So yes, guilty as charged, the Narnia Chronicles have an unashamed Christian worldview. If you read The Guardian you’ll know that gets right up Polly Toynbee’s nose. Hypocritical killjoys like her warn of how dangerous it is to expose your children to “Christian propaganda”. But all stories are propaganda of one kind or another and the parents among you have to answer a simple question: what kind of propaganda do I want my kids exposed to? CS Lewis’ Narnia stories are propaganda, but they are good propaganda, unlike insidious works such as Phillip Pullman’s His Dark Materials which the likes of Polly Toynbee would rather our children were exposed to.

Oh, and whilst I’m on the subject of critics, please, please, please ignore Jonathan Ross’ stupid review of this film. I have always felt he was a poor replacement for Barry Norman and he continually extols films with little or no cinematic merit, yet slates others with plenty. The truth is The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe has finally been done some justice on the big screen. Superior to the BBC and animated versions in every respect, this is a good, though not great piece of work. Adults may leave a trifle underwhelmed, but to quote Marty McFly in Back to the Future “your kids are gonna love it!”

Simon Dillon, December 2005.

Well, this strictly isn’t a film but a recording of a one-man stage show, but in honour of us re-instating our subscription to lovefilm.com, we felt it appropriate to review the first thing we watched. For those of you who don’t know, Dave Gorman began in stand-up but has been pursuing ‘documentary comedy’ for some years now. Author of the book and show ‘Are you Dave Gorman?’, where he spends the best part of his life looking for people with the same name as him, and friend to Danny Wallace, who you may have seen on TV recently starting his own country, the man is funny and erudite and has a knack for finding himself in odd situations. The Googlewhack Adventure demonstrates this admirably.

A Googlewhack, again in case you weren’t sure, is when you type 2 random words into Google, hit search and have just one page come back as your result. Those of you who know what it is have surely tried it, those who don’t will probably go and do so now. Go on, I’ll wait for you.

Ready? Done it? Not alwasy easy, is it? Anyway, bitten by the Googlewhack bug by a chance encounter with an Australian online stranger who discovers that Dave’s site contains one, Gorman sets off on an unwilling quest. He explains in some detail how now he was 31 he couldn’t possibly respond to a stupid bet to find 10 googlewhacks in a row and meet them all by his 32nd birthday. He brings a lot of detail to his tale of MASSIVE coincidences which start the whole thing off, and drunken events that conspire to get him to Washington DC on New Year’s Day 2003. And under duress, he begins to meet his googlewhacks in Boston and Columbus and Austin and London and Wales and San Diego etc etc. By the time he has come to terms with the fact that he is spending all the money advanced to him for a novel, he is so entrenched in the quest that it has taken over his life.

The presentation of the show is simple and highly effective. Gorman stands in front of a big screen with a remote for his computer and projects images which help him tell his story. And he tells his story with warmth, wit and a style that draws you in straight away. It’s just a guy recounting a fascinating anecdote of a few months of his life, in front of loads of people. The one thing that detracted for us was the use of more swearing than is strictly necessary, but in a live show that is often the case. The fact is, the man can tell a story well, and the circumstances have to be heard to be believed. There are many points in the show where you can feel the audience’s tension, and I think that’s quite impressive. Recordings of plays / shows are notoriously badly-done in my opinion, or simply unsatisfactory as a viewing experience. Due to its simplicity, this one is not.

Having said that, very simply, we preferred the book. Isn’t it always the way? It has more detail about certain encounters (such as the Welsh mini-drivers club and the alternative music scene adored by one American googlewhack) which are just as funny to read about as the rest, and with less swearing. And taking longer than 2 hours to read it made you feel like this was consuming his life more than it did as a whistle-stop stage show, even though the running time of the show was healthy - you get plenty for your money! If documentary comedy is your thing, and it has been for Heidi & I on and off over the past few years, check this out. Or buy the book.

I have often wondered why Christian priests in films always seem to be Catholics, particularly in supernatural dramas. As I was watching this I suddenly realised the answer. It’s not because Catholicism is the most internationally recognised denomination, it’s because Catholicism is so full of dramatic medieval iconography and therefore makes for visually arresting cinema.

Based (very, very loosely) on a true case, The Exorcism of Emily Rose is a mixture of horror film and courtroom drama. Priest Father Moore finds himself on trial for negligent manslaughter following an exorcism that went pear-shaped. The allegedly possessed victim, Emily Rose, subsequently died as she was refusing medical treatment on the advice of Father Moore. Up and coming lawyer Erin defends Father Moore in court, and Emily’s story is gradually revealed in flashback.

What starts out as a depressingly familiar clash of science versus religion quickly becomes something more interesting. Father Moore is revealed to be a fascinating character who does not disregard medicine (he even insisted on having a doctor present during the exorcism). At the same time, prosecuting attorney Ethan Thomas is a sceptical Christian determined to prove Emily was epileptic and most emphatically not demon possessed.

Despite the supernatural goings-on, director Scott Derrickson crafts the film to encourage the audience to make up its own mind. It’s also beautifully shot, with enough flourishes and visually startling moments to indicate that Derrickson may be a name to look out for in future. Obvious influences include The Exorcist, but whilst it is scary, it is nowhere near that level of armrest gripping, try-to-stop-shaking, stomach in knots terrifying. As a horror film it’s not really frightening enough and as a courtroom thriller it’s not quite thrilling enough. However as a combination of the two, it’s an underrated and thought provoking work, despite some scathing reviews from major critics.

Acting wise, there’s not a huge amount to write home about. Jennifer Carpenter does Linda Blair impressions as Emily Rose, and as Erin Laura Linney’s acting ranges from worried to tearful and tearfully worried. Tom Wilkinson is good as Father Moore, but then this is the kind of role he could sleepwalk through. The best turn comes from Campbell Scott as Ethan; a Christian with a closed mind similar to a number of people I know.

On the spiritual side, the usual Catholic superstitions are present and correct including stigmata, the 3am witching hour, barmy visions of the Virgin Mary, silly Exorcism rites that bear no resemblance to the simple approach to casting out demons mandated by the Bible and so forth. That said, Father Moore is an interesting, principled and compassionate character. His resolute faith and courage is inspiring. It is also delightfully refreshing to see a film which concludes that science and faith do not necessarily contradict one another.

Unfortunately, the film lets itself down in the end by suggesting it was God’s will for Emily to remain possessed and for the exorcism to not work, as through her death and the subsequent court case the world would be forced to acknowledge the existence of the spiritual realm. This is utter cobblers, as any Christian will tell you. Jesus Christ died was so we could be freed from demonic possession. He suffered so Emily Rose wouldn’t have to. This was particularly irritating as it makes God appear either cruel or incapable of defeating evil.

That said, I still think the overall film was positive and I would recommend it to non-Christians, simply as a tool to get them thinking. I would also recommend it to Christians like me, interested in the media as a form of creative evangelism. More religious Christians however, will no doubt have their hackles raised by its dodgy theology and had perhaps best avoid it.

Simon Dillon, December 2005.