The Greatest Trick

Last year, the western made an unexpected, welcome and surprisingly strong return, which included Seraphim Falls, 3:10 to Yuma and – best of all – The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford; the best in its genre since Unforgiven. Unfortunately, Appaloosa is not of the same calibre. It’s a decent enough picture, but falls considerably short of greatness.

The plot concerns two gunfighters Virgil (Ed Harris) and Hitch (Viggo Mortensen) who are hired to protect a small town from the ruthless rancher Bragg (Jeremy Irons). Events are complicated by the arrival of piano player Allison French (Renee Zellweger), with whom Virgil falls in love. However, she turns out to be not quite as virtuous as she first appears.

Ed Harris, making his directorial debut in adapting Robert Parker’s novel, tries very hard, and unfortunately, that’s the feeling one gets in watching. This is especially true given the endless references to classic westerns. For example, when Renee Zellweger steps off the train at the beginning, there are deliberate echoes of Once upon a time in the West. But instead of merely noting this affectionate reference, I found myself wishing I was watching that instead. There are other nods to the likes of My Darling Clementine and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and consequently for the first half at least, nothing feels particularly original.

The second half improves somewhat, as the characters gain complexity, especially Viggo Mortensen’s Hitch. But the third act loses focus so that when the inevitable final shootout takes place, it seems to come out of nowhere. To be fair, Harris manages to show off the landscape well, making good use of widescreen, but he lacks the genuine flair of the great western directors (John Ford, Clint Eastwood, Sergio Leone, etc). One wishes he could have concentrated more on his performance, as I know he is capable of better.

Viggo Mortensen’s performance is more noteworthy, despite the presence of some rather silly facial hair. And although Renee Zellweger is initially unconvincing, she greatly improves in the second half. Unfortunately, Jeremy Irons’ underwritten role lacks the necessary menace in the role of the villainous Bragg, and the excellent Timothy Spall’s bumbling town official is sorely underused.

All in all, for fans of westerns this is a welcome diversion, but sadly nothing more. Obviously I should add the routine cautions for violence and some swearing, but nothing seemed hugely inappropriate given the context.

Simon Dillon, September 2008.

Deliverance with chavs instead of rednecks. That just about sums up Eden Lake, a suspenseful and exceptionally disturbing Brit horror flick from My Little Eye director James Watkins. City couple Steve (Michael Fassbender) and Jenny (Kelly Reilly) go on a romantic holiday to a picturesque beauty spot, only to be menaced by a gang of thuggish teenagers. If only they had listened to their GPS system (“At the first opportunity, turn around”).

There is no doubt that Watkins has hit a raw nerve. In places, the film is all too believable, especially given recent headlines. But is this a serious attempt to address a national problem or merely a much better made video nasty? Certainly, in places, Eden Lake recalls the look and feel of video nasties like I Spit on your Grave. Never heard of it? Then don’t ask. No, really. I mean it.

Performances are all good, especially from the young cast playing the teenagers. The screenplay does a good job of gradually cranking up the suspense and creating a genuine feeling of unease. In fact, from a purely aesthetic standpoint, this is a very well crafted piece of horror cinema.

Which also means, obviously, strong 18 certificate stuff, jam packed with gruesome violence, some very, very nasty torture scenes (which in fairness keep much of the worst offscreen), and lots of very strong language. However, from a moral/spiritual perspective, my problem with Eden Lake isn’t so much that it’s a really, really horrid film (which is why they call them horror films, in case you were wondering), but that it’s dangerously close to political propaganda for the hang ‘em and flog ‘em brigade.

Frankly, I am suspicious of any film that attempts to capitalise on a “fear-of-the-underclass”. This crass subtext could have been avoided if the couple being terrorised weren’t yuppie city dwellers. But I’ll get off this point before I feel the need to slip into self-righteous cliché and say I know lots of very nice working class people.

The message – blame the parents – is hammered home with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. As I said earlier, recent news headlines about stabbings, hoodies, and so on make this subject matter hugely inflammatory. Bringing problems like this to people’s attention through shock tactics is sometimes a valid course of action, but I can’t help wondering what the point was in this particular case. There are no solutions offered, so all the film really does is affirm to Daily Mail readers that they are right about chavvy, feral kids, without looking at the spiritual perspectives or offering any kind of redemptive ideas. To be fair, one doesn’t necessarily want happy endings in horror films (and this one ends, appropriately, in about as feel-bad fashion as possible), but along the way, the screenplay could have hinted at reasons for the children’s behaviour beyond the often true but frankly too simplistic “it’s the parents fault” argument.

For instance, to take two tragic real life cases: the death of James Bulger in the UK, and the Columbine massacre in the US, I think the killers were probably demon possessed, as there was evidence of occult involvement. Eden Lake would have been more interesting if these spiritual dimensions weren’t ignored. Instead, it’s just a really unpleasant, if very well made, horror film with pretences at a social conscience.

Simon Dillon, September 2008.

Regular readers of my articles will know that I am not one for patronising children. There are those who believe that dark subject matter like the Holocaust should not trouble young minds, but I could not disagree more. The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, based on the novel by John Boyne (which I must confess I haven’t read), is a remarkable, shocking, and moving story that succeeds brilliantly in teaching about this monumental act of evil to those who have yet to learn of it.

It’s a simple enough tale, about Bruno, the eight year old son an SS commandant, who has to move to the country with his mother and elder sister Gretel when his father is put in charge of “something very important for the war”. Although strictly forbidden to explore the woods beyond his back garden, Bruno ventures forth one day and comes to the electrified barb wire of what he believes is a farm where the workers wear pyjamas. Here he meets Schmuel, a Jewish boy whom he befriends. He begins to visit him regularly, bringing him gifts of food and playing games. But as the horrible truth slowly begins to reveal itself, Bruno finds himself asking some very difficult questions.

It is here that certain flaws in the story become impossible to ignore. For instance, although this film has a measure of historical accuracy, there would have been no way the relationship between Schmuel and Bruno would have been possible, as children taken to death camps were not kept as workers but killed immediately. Other plot contrivances stretch credibility to breaking point, but having said that disbelief is willingly suspended provided the story is viewed as a fable, rather than a historically accurate piece. For the ending alone, this is a story worth suspending disbelief for, but more on that later.

Viewed with adult knowledge, The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas is excruciatingly painful to watch. The innocent eyes through which Bruno sees the camp, and the way he tries to make absurd rationalisations about the madness around him is agonising. Yet because he is only eight, his age protects him from the anti-Semitic indoctrinations of his father, grandfather, the other soldiers and his tutor. One particularly heartbreaking moment sees Bruno invite Schmuel to one day come and play at his house in Berlin “when everyone has stopped being angry with each other”. Unfortunately, his elder sister Gretel is too old to be innocent. She puts away her dolls and laps up the Nazi propaganda with a truly chilling zeal.

The performances are all excellent, once one gets past the fact that the cast all speak with impeccable British accents. Both boys are particularly brilliant; Asa Butterfield as Bruno, and Jack Scanlon as Schmuel (in his second superb role this year, following his part in Son of Rambow). David Thewlis is frighteningly believable as Bruno’s father and Vera Farmiga is equally believable as Bruno’s mother, whose fragile belief in the Nazi cause falls to pieces as she realises exactly what it is her husband is up to. Amber Beattie’s Gretel provides a harrowing reminder of just how susceptible the young were to Hitler’s propaganda, and incidentally even Bruno suffers in this respect. In one scene he watches a documentary film intended to show that the camp is a nice place where Jews have been relocated. His baffled disbelief when he discovers the horrible truth is truly heartrending.

Technically, the film is well put together, and has a number of nicely subtle touches. For instance, production designer Mark Childs has the family living in a Berlin town house at the beginning, with light brown wooden floors and staircases that are lit beautifully. This is starkly contrasted by the oppressive black stained wood on the floors and stairs of the house in the country – a visually appropriate indication of Bruno’s father’s new work.

Violence is kept strictly offscreen, but the film oozes with menace, and for that director Mark Herman deserves a great deal of credit in handling the subject matter with such sensitivity. I believe no topic should be off limits for children, provided the treatment is appropriate. Ironically, I would argue that this is more likely to upset adults than children, who would no doubt share Bruno’s view of the world to a degree. It is a film that will make a lasting impression on any younger viewers as it will show them at an impressionable age just how absurd racial prejudice and anti-Semitism really is.

Which brings me to the ending – an astonishing finale that manages to be as shocking, powerful and moving as anything in Schindler’s List. I will not spoil it except to say that depending on your temperament it is either horribly bleak or a stunningly powerful affirmation of loyalty, friendship and bravery. Personally, I think its both. I left the cinema shaken, but deeply moved. If you have children over the age of about ten, you should definitely take them to see this. Actually, I would even go so far as to say it is your duty to do so, but be prepared for some long discussions afterwards.

Simon Dillon, September 2008.

An acquaintance of mine recently urged me not to see this film, on account of an irrational hatred they have for Keira Knightley. This person was the latest in a worryingly large group who hold such feelings, despising Knightley as though she had murdered their entire family. Although I must also admit there are certain actors and actresses that grind my gears (Jennifer Aniston for instance), it is somewhat alarming that quite so many people seem to have a problem with this particular actress.

Frankly, I don’t know what the fuss is about. Knightley is perfectly acceptable in her films (with the exception of the excruciatingly bad Pirates of the Caribbean sequels but that wasn’t her fault). Her latest role in The Duchess, as Georgina, unhappy wife of the late eighteenth century Duke of Devonshire, is certainly one of her better efforts. She is ably supported by Ralph Fiennes’ Duke, although he is little more than a one dimensional boorish cad. He is desperate for a male heir, but Georgina seems only able to conceive girls.

The Duke’s open infidelity makes Georgina’s life a misery, especially once he takes her best friend Bess as a mistress. Georgina turns to Whig prime minister in waiting Charles Gray for solace, and they fall in love. How factually based this all is, I don’t know. It’s based on a book by Amanda Holden which I’ve not read, but the characters were certainly real. Incidentally, brushing up on eighteenth century politics would help before watching, especially for those who don’t know what a Whig is.

Charlotte Rampling, Dominic Cooper and Hayley Atwell provide decent support, director Saul Dibb keeps the film moving nicely, cinematographer Gyula Pados makes good use of widescreen space and Rachel Portman’s music score compliments the drama well. Unfortunately, the screenplay, whilst never boring, fails to build to a sufficiently dramatic peak to warrant real recommendation. It also has rather tedious overtones of what happened with Princess Diana if you can be bothered to look, which I can’t as it would diminish my sympathy for Georgina.

For a 12 certificate film, the sexual activity depicted herein is surprisingly explicit. Obviously, the subject matter warrants a certain amount, but other Christians may disagree. The film is also a somewhat depressing journey into misery with little mitigate the unhappiness experienced by the majority of its characters. On the other hand, fans of frocks and gorgeous locations will find much to praise. Most importantly, for better or worse it is Keira Knightley who dominates the film, which as far as I’m concerned is the film’s saving grace.

Simon Dillon, September 2008.