The Greatest Trick

When Wai Keung Lau (director of Infernal Affairs, the Hong Kong police thriller on which this film is based), saw The Departed, he commented that it was good but too long with too much profanity. I more or less agree. Martin Scorsese’ slick remake is an unparalleled swear-fest from start to finish. This will come as no surprise to those familiar with Scorsese’ notoriously foul-mouthed gangster pictures, but the unsuspecting viewer may be surprised at just how much these characters need to wash their mouths out. Swearing in films can be contextually appropriate, but peppering dialogue with this many expletives is so preposterous that any dramatic impact becomes utterly redundant. Depending on how desensitised the audience is, the viewer will either be appalled and leave, or simply become numb to it after about twenty minutes. This is a flaw shared by Scorsese’ best work – the otherwise brilliant Goodfellas for instance.

Anyway, The Departed sticks fairly close to the superb premise of Infernal Affairs; namely that through a series of complicated set-ups, a mob boss places an undercover spy in the police force, and a police boss places an undercover spy in the mob. Both become aware of each others existence and both try to smoke the other out. The main differences are that The Departed is set in Boston with the State Police instead of Hong Kong, and as Wai Keung Lau pointed out, the characters and their backgrounds have been rather too fleshed out, making the film overlong.

The cynic in me wants to dismiss this as yet another Hollywood attempt to lazily remake a terrific film for those who are incapable of reading subtitles. Yet, The Departed manages to be something of a different beast in its own right. The main reason for this is Scorsese. He makes the film his own, adding signature themes of guilt, loss of faith, black humour, and the obligatory explosions of shockingly bloody violence. It also contains the regulation Scorsese swipes at the Catholic Church (for the uninitiated, Scorsese wanted to be a priest before becoming a film director but was kicked out of seminary for having an affair).

But the best thing about The Departed is the quality of acting. The entire cast delivers faultless, outstanding performances. For my money, man-of-the-match goes to Leonardo DiCaprio, who delivers a blistering, knock-out turn, acting his socks off as tormented undercover cop Billy Costigan. Matt Damon almost matches him as Colin Sullivan, the mob mole. Martin Sheen puts in brilliant support as Costigan’s boss Queenan, and Mark Wahlberg is wonderfully odious as Dignam, Queenan’s hilariously unpleasant sidekick. Elsewhere Jack Nicholson is brilliant as always playing Irish mob boss Frank Costello, and if it comes across as though he’s on autopilot in a role tailor fit for him, it’s because of the impossibly high standard he has always set for himself. Alec Baldwin and Ray Winstone are also excellent in their limited roles, and finally, Vera Farmiga is nicely understated as the beautiful police psychiatrist who becomes intimately involved with both Costigan and Sullivan.

Make no mistake, this is an old-school, politically incorrect, brutally intense, tough-as-nails thriller, where men are men, women are women and you’re never more than a few minutes away from a brutal killing. As the corpses mount, and Costigan and Sullivan close in on each other, there’s a brilliant scene where they call each other on mobile phones, but neither speaks, knowing that whoever talks first will give away their identities. The Shakespearean finale of Infernal Affairs is recreated here with such vicious intensity that one starts to wonder if it could top the original.

Except it doesn’t. In the last sixty seconds or so, an additional, possibly studio imposed sequence changes what was, in the original, a fiendishly clever ending. Therefore, in addition to Wai Keung Lau’s caveats of swearing and overlength, I must also add that the ending ruins the film. Despite brilliant acting and bravura direction, yet again, the remake isn’t as good as the original.

Simon Dillon, October 2006.

Based on the novel by Lauren Weisberger, The Devil Wears Prada plays like a female version of Oliver Stone’s Wall Street, and even echoes Alexander Mackendrick’s excellent 1957 satire Sweet Smell of Success. It’s a Faustian morality tale set in the absurd world of fashion wherein pretty but distinctly un-fashion conscious Andy manages to land the job of assistant to Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep), editor of fashion Bible Runway magazine.

Miranda proves to be the boss from hell and at first Andy hates every minute, but being Miranda’s assistant opens doors, so she is determined to stick out the job in order to make the contacts she needs to get a job elsewhere as a serious journalist. However, over time, Andy begins to enjoy her job more and sells her soul, so to speak. She gradually becomes more and more like her boss, alienating boyfriend, family and friends. When she finally realises what she has done, she tries to make amends, but is it too late?

For the most part, this is a great fun. The sharp satirical laughs come thick and fast, since the fashion industry is always ripe for a good kicking. There are excellent performances all round, from Anne Hathaway’s helpless but determined Andy to Emily Blunt as Miranda’s exceptionally unfriendly other assistant Emily (who comes out with hilarious lines like “I’m on a new diet. I don’t eat anything, and when I feel like I’m going to faint I eat a cube of cheese”). Stanley Tucci provides fine support as Nigel, who ultimately manages to rise above the stereotype of the obligatory gay fashion expert. David Frankel’s direction is confident, and the film zips along at a fine pace to some well chosen pop songs.

But this is undoubtedly Meryl Streep’s film. Her cold manner, casually vicious put-downs, and ludicrously unreasonable requests make for hilarious viewing. One particular sequence where she demands Andy track down a copy of an unpublished Harry Potter novel for her children to read is an absolute scream. Later in the film she displays a more vulnerable side, whilst still maintaining her mercilessly condescending manner. She is a truly memorable creation; a ruthless, scheming, manipulating, cold-hearted monster yet completely and believably human. There will undoubtedly be an Oscar nomination.

Only at the end does the story stumble. I don’t know how the novel ended having not read it, but the film’s finale is too sweet natured and neat, whereas a darker, or more ambiguous ending would have been more satisfying. Therefore, this is worth seeing, especially for Meryl Streep’s terrific performance, but it lacks the bite that would have made it a genuinely classic satire like Sweet Smell of Success, or a convincing Faustian drama like Wall Street.

Simon Dillon, October 2006.

An Oliver Stone film without politics may sound like an oxymoron (like an intelligent Michael Bay film or a David Lynch film that makes sense), but World Trade Center is exactly that; a stripped down, no-nonsense tale of survival mercifully bereft of Stone’s worst excesses (my father calls him Oliver Grindstone). It’s comparable to other Hollywood “based on a true story” disaster movies, such as Frank Marshall’s hugely underrated Alive, and it is definitely the most interesting project Stone has tackled for some time.

Stone was renowned in his heyday for such angry and overtly political works as Platoon, Wall Street, Salvador, JFK and Born on the Fourth of July – in my opinion his masterpiece. But after that it all went pear-shaped with the likes of Heaven and Earth, Natural Born Killers, and most recently Alexander. I began to doubt I would ever see a good Oliver Stone film again, which makes World Trade Center all the more surprising.

The picture tells the gruelling but uplifting true story of Port Authority officers John McLoughlin and William J. Jimeno, who were almost the last two people to be pulled from the World Trade Centre rubble following the 9/11 attacks. The film cuts between their desperate attempts to stay alive, the rescue efforts, and their families as they wait for news of their loved ones.

Throughout the film, there are a plethora of positive moral and spiritual lessons. Both men reassess their lives in light of the tragedy, vowing to live less selfishly and to mend broken family relationships. Both men pray to God for deliverance, and indeed are ultimately delivered. Also, among the rescuers is ex-Marine Sergeant Thomas (William Mapother) who believes God has told him to search for survivors and it is he who ultimately discovers McLoughlin and Jimeno. Although understated, this part of the story is a remarkable and powerful affirmation of obeying the call of God.

Stone’s direction is unusually restrained, but still contains enough of his trademark slow-motion camera flourishes to make it clear who is calling the shots. Nicholas Cage and Michael Pena are both very good in their lead roles, and the finale is undeniably moving. But although much effort is made to keep things gritty and realistic, it never attains the same astoundingly tense and terrifying level reached by Paul Greengrass’ vastly superior United 93. The documentary realism of that film all but removed the barrier between the audience and the film, whereas World Trade Center, although harrowing, still allows the audience the comfortable familiarity of Hollywood cinematic traditions.

In conclusion, if you see just one film about 9/11, see United 93. But if you see two, this is also worth a look.

Simon Dillon, October 2006.