The Greatest Trick

Kate Winslet once appeared in Ricky Gervais’ satirical TV series Extras playing a cynical, opportunistic version of herself. In it, she had deliberately taken a role in a Holocaust drama because she thought it automatically meant an Oscar win. Therefore it is not without irony that she has just won an Oscar for a role in a Holocaust drama, The Reader. Said role is good, but frankly far from Winslet at her best, and although hers is the kind of epic, showy performance Oscar voters love, I was massively disappointed that Angelina Jolie didn’t win instead for her extraordinary and vastly superior turn in Changeling.

With Winslet’s hilarious role in Extras forever lodged in my mind, I found it impossible to approach The Reader without a degree of cynicism. Based on Bernhard Schlink’s novel, the plot concerns an affair between 15-year old German schoolboy Michael Berg and tram ticket collector Hannah, in 1958 Berlin. This brief, summer romance so traumatises the impressionable Michael that it has profound effects on the rest of his life; effects that take a dark turn when it is later revealed that Hannah was an SS guard in Nazi death camps and is placed on trial for war crimes.

My father once described the first act of the otherwise rather good 1986 thriller No Way Out as “one long fornication” and that also more or less sums up the initial scenes in The Reader. However, once the all too familiar (and arguably pornographic) youthful rites of passage are dispensed with, there are some intermittently powerful sequences – Michael’s visit to the death camps, the reason why Hannah loves to be read to, and a brilliant penultimate scene featuring a Holocaust survivor in Michael’s older years that made far more of an impression that anything Kate Winslet was responsible for.

Director Stephen Daldry, who made the excellent Billy Elliot, directs with quiet, sombre restraint which suits the subject matter. However it’s a shame that as a film The Reader is such an infuriately mixed bag. Obviously it is very serious, but David Hare’s screenplay doesn’t generate a sufficient head of dramatic tension, and feels overlong. Whether that’s the result of being too faithful to the book or departing from it I can’t say, as I haven’t read it, but this is nowhere near the same league as – say – The Pianist, Schindler’s List, Life is Beautiful or even last years immensely powerful if improbable The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas.

Thankfully, the actors go a long way to make up for such shortcomings. David Kross is particularly good as the vulnerable young Michael. Repressed, guilt-ridden and scarred by his infatuation with Hannah, he then cannot interact properly with girls his own age, and subsequently fails at marriage later in life. As the older version of Michael, the always brilliant Ralph Fiennes contributes another superb performance. And to be fair to Kate Winslet, she does do very well in the difficult role of Hannah. I just don’t think she should have won an Oscar for it.

Still, there can never be too many films about the Holocaust. The Reader is a deeply flawed but nevertheless interesting study of guilt, obsession and repressed emotion. Some Christians will no doubt take it to task for excessive sex and nudity, but taken as a whole this is a bleak but moral tale, especially considering how Michael’s youthful passions ultimately destroy his entire life.

Simon Dillon, February 2009.

Families on the lookout for a half term cinematic diversion can do a lot worse than Bolt, the latest animated feature from Disney.

The eponymous Bolt has been raised to believe the action packed television programme he stars in is real, and that he really has superpowers. His teenage owner Penny is reluctantly complicit in this Truman Show-esque hoax, but every time she gets a twinge of conscience her agent persuades her (and her mother) that it’s for the best, since the programme makers are getting a level of De Niro-esque canine acting that has never been seen before.

However, when a series of unexpected circumstances leaves Bolt stranded in New York City, he is forced to face up to the truth as well as the big wide world. Determined to return west to Penny, he joins up with cynical feline Mittens, and a somewhat deranged hamster called Rhino, who is obsessed with Bolt’s TV series.

This is essentially The Incredible Journey with a post-modern hi-tech twist. But directors Byron Howard and Chris Williams pack the film with fun chases, big laughs (especially from Rhino who steals every scene he is in, and a kryptonite type gag involving styrofoam), and a few poignant moments. It’s as predictable as its worthy but familiar messages about friendship and believing in oneself, but still manages to give the audience what it wants in ways it doesn’t always expect.

The animation is almost as detailed and convincing as a Pixar film, though not as visually unique or stylish. Vocal talents from the likes of John Travolta, Miley Cyrus and Malcolm McDowell are put to good use, and though this isn’t destined for classic status, it’s a fun romp for all the family that will fill the gap nicely until Pixar’s next offering Up, due later this year.

Simon Dillon, February 2009.

“God promised Abraham he would not destroy Sodom if he could find just ten righteous people in it. I am afraid that for Germany, it may come down to one.” So says Kenneth Branagh’s Major General Henning von Tresckow in director Bryan Singer’s Valkyrie; a film that finally tells the true story one of World War II’s great unsung heroes Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg, and those like von Tresckow who conspired with him to assassinate Hitler in his bunker at the Wolf’s Lair.

As Stauffenberg, Tom Cruise is perhaps not the ideal choice, but I maintain that he is underrated as an actor, and nevertheless good in the role. He is ably supported by Branagh, Bill Nighy, Tom Wilkinson, Terence Stamp, Eddie Izzard, Tom Hollander, Thomas Kretschmann and David Bamber among others. Much has been made of their non-German accents, but I found the US and British voices generally did not detract from the story.

Singer’s film has been steeped in controversy and troubled production history. He was not allowed to shoot at various historic locations in Germany as the Germans have a particular dislike for Scientology (Tom Cruise’s religion of choice). This somewhat irrational reason for putting a spanner in the works (its not as though this film has anything to do with Scientology) meant Singer had to compromise. But that was not the end of his problems. Early test screenings were not good, and reshoots were ordered.

Typically such problems mean the finished result is garbage, but despite bad reviews, I am going to fight a rearguard action on this one. Although it has a slightly awkward first half hour, Valkyrie quickly improves once the conspiracy is underway. The audience may know the ending, but Nathan Alexander and Christopher McQuarrie’s screenplay builds up considerable suspense, and certain sequences really underscore how the coup could have gone either way. One sequence in particular, involving teletypists, shows how minor workers in the Reich held the balance of power in their hands, deciding which of the contradictory orders they were receiving to pass on. These contradictory orders had to be enacted by the officer in charge of the reservists (the brilliant Thomas Kretschmann, who deserves a special mention for his pivotal role).

On a moral, spiritual level, this is exemplary – a true story from history about bravery, conscience and when it is right to rebel against authority. One is reminded of when the apostles said they must obey God rather than man when the law of the land is immoral. Everything Stauffenberg does is for the good of Germany, because he knows the only way to truly serve its interests is to get rid of the Fuhrer. That he failed makes him no less heroic.

In final analysis, this is a flawed but tense thriller, well worth a look and certainly a lot better than critics have said.

Simon Dillon, February 2009.

Depending on your point of view, this is either the curious case of a unique and brilliant piece of filmmaking, or the curious case of an overlong, self-indulgent load of meaningless twaddle. Cynics take the latter view, and I’m sorry for them.

To be fair, the film’s conceit – based on the short story by FS Fitzgerald (and possibly Mark Twain’s famous quote wishing he could be born at eighty and gradually approach eighteen) – about a man who ages backwards, takes a large amount of suspension of disbelief, and at times it is stretched to breaking point. However, this melancholy, heartfelt parable is pure cinematic romance, held together by David Fincher’s stunning direction and Brad Pitt’s memorably understated performance in the central role.

Benjamin’s mother dies in childbirth, and horrified at his appearance, his father abandons him on the doorstep of an old people’s home run by the kindly Dorothy Baker, who adopts him. The obvious ironies of a boy who looks like an old man being brought up in an old people’s home are explored in an understated and subtle way, since old people are often treated like children in any case. It’s also highly amusing to see Button, still looking elderly, in his teenage years being berated by his adoptive mother for going out drinking.

Benjamin meets the love of his life, Daisy, when she is a little girl. Much of the film revolves around their romance, as she grows forwards and he grows backwards. Eventually, they “meet in the middle” and enjoy a time together that both know will inevitably end in tragedy. “I was thinking about how nothing lasts,’ Benjamin muses, “and what a shame that is”. Incidentally, the film is bookended, Titanic style, by sequences with Daisy as an old woman as she lies dying in a New Orleans hospital whilst her daughter Caroline reads to her on the day of Hurricane Katrina.

No explanation is given for Benjamin’s curious condition, and this has earned the ire of certain critics who claim the fantastic premise has no internal logic. Again, it’s easy to see their point, but given how hard Eric Roth’s screenplay strives against sentimentality and cliché, it’s easy to forgive. Besides, it’s not entirely fair to say no explanation has been given. In a bizarre dream-like prologue (complete with Fincher’s trademark deliberate film scratches), a clockmaker whose son dies in the First World War makes a railway clock that ticks backwards. As the clock is unveiled, he says he made it because he wanted to make a statement about how he wishes he could turn back time to bring back those who died (cue weird sequences of soldiers in the trenches getting shot in reverse). The clockmaker then dies, supposedly of a broken heart, but it is hinted that Button’s strange existence is somehow linked to the existence of this clock.

Some have suggested this is similar to Forrest Gump, but I found the comparison unhelpful. Yes, both films involve somewhat naïve and unusual protagonists who make a peculiar journey through history, but where Gump involved pop montages aplenty to drive home what decades they were in, Benjamin Button is far more subtle. Besides, Button does not deal with the same historical events as Gump. Although partially set in the 60s and 70s, there is no mention of Kennedy, Vietnam, Nixon or Watergate. Instead, the important moments revolve around entirely different settings, often abroad in places like Russia, or serving on a tug boat during World War II.

As I have already mentioned, Brad Pitt is excellent in the central role, and the superb make-up and special effects used to age him or make him younger compliment rather than dominate the performance. Cate Blanchett, one of my favourite current actresses, is equally excellent as Daisy. There are also fine supporting roles from the likes of Faune A Chambers as Dorothy and Julia Ormond as Caroline.

Despite the potentially depressing subject matter, there are a surprising number of good laughs to be had, particularly a running gag about a man who keeps getting struck by lightning. Claudio Miranda’s cinematography is also beautiful, and there are stunningly romantic images here such as Benjamin and Daisy embracing on a boat with a rocket flying into space in the background. Additionally, Alexandre Desplat contributes an understated but haunting music score.

Clearly time, whether running forwards or backwards, is intended to be the nemesis. But as the characters gradually accept the inevitability of growing old and dying, Christian audiences will realise time itself is not the enemy, but the wages of sin. Whether the filmmakers intended it or not, this is a film about something more profound than time: human mortality. Death is a curse that came into the world through sin, and was never God’s ideal. Through Christ we have eternal life, and, as the Bible says, the last enemy to be destroyed will be Death itself. But despite some positive allusions to God (particularly when a barren woman is prayed for in a church service and subsequently miraculously gets pregnant), the issues of eternal life are barely touched on here. It is good that this film forces its audience to confront mortality, but it doesn’t provide any eternal hope, merely an acceptance of the inevitable.

Of additional concern to Christian audiences is the film’s apparent acceptance of sinful sexual practices. Benjamin’s naïve visit to a brothel and an affair he has with a British woman in Russia (played by Tilda Swinton) are seen as rites of passage and life experience respectively, rather than anything morally dubious.

However, generally the positives outweigh the negatives. Ultimately this is pure whimsy, but it’s also whimsy directed with considerable cinematic flair. The film is overlong, but not boring. From the coloured buttons that form the opening Warner Brothers and Paramount logos, to the enigmatic final shot, this is an admittedly flawed but fascinating, strangely moving piece of filmmaking full of memorable, potentially iconic imagery that is well worth making the effort to see at the cinema on a big screen.

Simon Dillon, February 2009.

Films about journalism and interviewing are sometimes overpraised by critics, who no doubt enjoy the exploration of their own craft. However, in the case of Frost/Nixon, such concerns prove unfounded. Director Ron Howard is back on form after the dismal Da Vinci Code with a Best Picture nominated fact based drama that is absolutely riveting.

Peter Morgan’s screenplay, adapting his own stage play, is based on a series of interviews David Frost conducted with Nixon in 1977 – interviews that resulted in the closest thing Nixon ever gave to an admission of conspiracy and an apology for Watergate. It assumes a certain amount of historical knowledge on the part of the viewer, but it’s nice to see a film that doesn’t talk down to its audience. It also invites comparisons to George Clooney’s Good Night and Good Luck, about the famous CBS interview with Joseph McCarthy on 60 minutes. But unlike Clooney’s monochrome gem, the critical difference is the actual footage of Nixon’s interviews is not used. Good Night and Good Luck gained astonishing power by simply using McCarthy as himself, whereas Nixon is here portrayed by an actor.

Obviously Frost/Nixon therefore required first rate performances to work, and as Frost and Nixon respectively, Michael Sheen and Frank Langella provide them. Langella has the more showy, Oscar-baiting role, lumbering menacingly into the frame and oozing with pride and self-loathing. Sheen on the other hand is equally good, and has unfortunately been overlooked at many awards ceremonies, despite his increasingly dab hand at impersonating famous people (he was an excellent Tony Blair in The Queen and Channel 4’s The Deal). His Frost comes off as, if not exactly the hero, then a likeable, albeit womanising, PR chasing TV personality whose obsession with the spotlight unwittingly places him against a nemesis he is unprepared to face. David and Goliath comparisons are inevitable, and the verbal sparring between the two is, as the film points out, akin to a boxing match. When Frost and Nixon take breaks between tape changes, there are inter-round pep talks with their respective entourages, and the actual interviews themselves contain metaphorical blows, blocks, dodges, sucker punches, dancing around the opponent and ultimately a knockout.

In the supporting cast, Sam Rockwell is terrific as James Reston Jr, who unlike Frost wanted Nixon’s confession for moral rather than PR reasons. Matthew McFadden, Rebecca Hall and Oliver Platt are also all good, and Kevin Bacon deserves a special mention as Nixon’s sycophantic confidant Jack Brennon, who can’t bear to see a British upstart TV personality take on his idol.

Ultimately, Frost/Nixon is one of Ron Howard’s better efforts. He wisely eschews the trappings of period pieces by refusing to resort to disco tracks and silly haircuts. Instead, he uses a faux documentary format in places to add realism, and directs with a spare, unfussy style that underlines what this interview was really about: the power of the close-up. Ironically, on stage this is something that could not be fully explored, but cinema proves the ideal exploration of this device. On a big screen, the close-ups are so large and clear that Nixon’s face reveals what his words don’t.

All in all, a very good film, that could well make a star out of Michael Sheen. As Frost puts it “success in America is unlike success anywhere else”. On the strength of this film, he could well end up with success of precisely that nature.

Simon Dillon, February 2009.