The Greatest Trick

Denzel Washington is one of those actors I can never decide about. Most of the time I think he is frustratingly worthy, choosing projects that I just don’t want to see. He also comes across as quite smug, and that is very off-putting. And then there’s Training Day and Man on Fire, both of which reveal a far more interesting range of acting requirements, and subsequently more interesting performances. This film, purporting to document the life of Rubin ‘Hurricane’ Carter, is sadly not one of these.

Carter is a middleweight fighter, presented as a kid from the wrong side of the tracks, unjustly treated by a racist police force and a justice system that was against him from the start. When he is accused of a triple murder in a bar in New Jersey, he goes to prison for the rest of his life, and while inside writes an autobiography. This book is subsequently picked up in the 80s by a young man, Lesra Martin, who identifies with Carter’s struggle and vows, with the help of his Canadian commune-dwelling educators (weird set-up that isn’t really explained at all), to get him out.

The movie is very uneven, at least 40 minutes too long, and really rather worthy. There are serious questions about the truth of what is presented (see the user comments on the IMDb page), though the film does admit on an opening title card that characters are composited and some events used with creative licence. Even so, about half way through I asked myself what the film was actually about. Was it a boxing movie, a prison movie, a movie about the power of the written word, or about racism? We get the majority of Carter’s story via the device of Martin reading his book, with a very irritating narrative voice-over, which just comes off as clunky exposition. When the film finally gets into the search for new evidence to help Carter in his trial, and becomes a courtroom drama, it develops some interest, but it’s far too late to resurrect audience enthusiasm.

Washington’s performance is right up there with the best of his ‘worthy’ ones, and it is clear that historically Carter’s fate was of some interest in a time of extreme social change (Bob Dylan’s song about him features strongly on the soundtrack, which is actually the strongest feature of the movie as a whole). One scene where the pressure of prison causes Carter’s mind to create three distinct personalities is impressive, but the story-telling is messy, and Washington can’t rise above a script which doesn’t actually give him much to do but pontificate for the last half of the film. As far as other performances go, Rod Steiger is the only one of any decent note (and he is fantastic), but John Hannah’s ‘Canadian’ accent is confusing, to say the least.

In terms of objectionable content, there is a fair amount of swearing, and clearly boxing and murders mean there is violence, but all this is contextually justified. The Empire magazine review calls the film ‘decent-minded and brilliantly-executed’; I might agree with the former (though basing the film more or less totally on one man’s autobiography doesn’t seem very balanced), but not the latter.

I have always been a huge fan of Joy Division and New Order, so had high expectations of this long awaited biopic of Ian Curtis, who tragically committed suicide at just 23 in 1980. Thankfully, director Anton Corbijn’s wonderful film does not disappoint.

Ian Curtis grew up in Manchester in the 70’s listening to the likes of Iggy Pop and David Bowie. Following the punk scene, he and fellow teenagers Bernard Sumner, Peter Hook and Stephen Morris decided to form a band called Joy Division, provocatively named after a Nazi brothel (they also used some Nazi inspired artwork that caused certain sections of the press to mistakenly label them right wing). Needless to say, anyone who knows pop music history knows Joy Division went on to produce some phenomenally influential albums, but Ian Curtis wasn’t ready to be thrust into fame so quickly. A combination of epilepsy, the drugs he was taking to combat the epilepsy, and anguish over being in love with two women ultimately caused him to take his own life.

All of which makes this film sound immensely depressing, and to a point it is. But screenwriter Matt Greenhalgh’s adaptation of Deborah Curtis’s autobiographical book ensures the story is laced with dark humour and humanity. Shot in stunningly beautiful monochrome, cinematographer Martin Ruhe brilliantly recreates the look and feel of the British “angry young men” films of the early 1960’s – A Taste of Honey, This Sporting Life, Billy Liar et al – not to mention some of the most memorable images from Joy Division’s all too brief existence as a band.

The cast are all superb, especially Sam Riley as Curtis whose performance dominates the entire film. The decision for him to sing instead of lip-synch to the Joy Division’s most memorable tracks proves as good a decision as it was for Joaquin Phoenix to sing Johnny Cash in Walk the Line. Off stage, he is also utterly convincing – by turns kind, cruel, remorseful, hypocritical, angry and utterly conflicted. The gradual realisation that he doesn’t want to be famous but thinks he has no choice is as brilliant a portrait of tormented musical genius as could possibly be hoped for. Those familiar with Joy Division’s music will know that their lyrics whilst poetic are astonishingly complex and dark. Certainly their best known song, Love will tear us apart, speaks of emotions no 23-year old should have to experience (Curtis couldn’t make up his mind whether his early marriage was a mistake, but didn’t want to leave his wife Deborah in spite of also being in love with his mistress Annik).

The rest of the band don’t get a huge amount of screen time, although their screen counterparts – Joe Anderson, James Anthony Pearson and Harry Treadaway as Peter Hook, Bernard Sumner and Stephen Morris respectively – do well with limited roles. Admittedly, Bernard Sumner gets slightly more scenes, since he went on to front New Order with the surviving members following Curtis’ suicide. New Order went on to become one of the greatest bands of the 80’s and early 90’s.

Elsewhere, Samantha Morton is surprisingly effective as Deborah, essentially a fairly thankless role. Alexandra Maria Lara provides a good counterpoint in Annik, Craig Parkinson is fine as Factory Records producer Tony Wilson (although not as good as Steve Coogan’s portrayal of the same character in 24 Hour Party People), and Tony Kebbell adds fine support as Rob Gretton, Joy Division’s amusingly foul mouthed manager. I should add that the film contains extremely strong language throughout.

As is often the case with such films, it is ultimately impossible to truly get inside the head of someone as enigmatic as Ian Curtis. However, Control is by no means a failure. It is best viewed as a cautionary tale about the trappings of fame, and Curtis’ slide into despair is profound, haunting and deeply moving.

Simon Dillon, October 2007.

Amazing Grace, the powerful story of 18th century politician William Wilberforce and his lifelong campaign to bring about the abolition of slavery, takes it title from the hymn written by slave trader turned Christian John Newton. There are various renditions of this classic hymn throughout the film, including a stirring bagpipe rendition which unfortunately will remind any sci-fi fan of the finale of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. However, it is an appropriate recurring motif for what is an undeniably powerful and moving experience – a good watch for the casual viewer, and nothing less than a must-see for Christians.

Ioan Grufford is captivating in the lead role. As well as providing the requisite scenery chewing political speeches, he proves excellent at portraying Wilberforce’s eccentricities, which included often inviting beggars to eat in his home and keeping endless wounded animals as pets. His friendship with Prime Minister William Pitt (a well-cast Benedict Cumberbatch), who out of political expediency had to remain publicly neutral on abolition, is also believable and interesting. When he meets his wife-to-be Barbara (Romola Garai) at a moment when he has all but given up, their romantic liaison gives him second wind to take up the abolition cause again, even though he was plagued with sickness. The “love of a good woman” subplot may be a cliché, but it rings true, probably because this is based on a true story.

Grufford, Cumberbatch and Garai get excellent support from more well known actors. Rufus Sewell is fun to watch as Wilberforce’s quirky abolitionist colleague Thomas Clarkson. Ciaran Hinds contributes a terrific performance as Wilberforce’s arch rival in parliament, Lord Tarleton, and Michael Gambon is great as rival politician turned abolitionist Charles Fox. Best of all, Albert Finney’s deeply moving portrayal of John Newton gives the film a strong emotional boost.

Steven Knight’s screenplay is structured via somewhat awkward flashbacks, which frankly rob the story of dramatic momentum, and by ambitiously romping through Wilberforce’s entire political career, certain (understandable) dramatic liberties are taken. As a result, the film has a slightly episodic feel, and it falls short of great cinema. However, director Michael Apted helms the picture solidly, and whilst I would have preferred a film on the subject of slavery to be a bit more gruesome and hard-hitting, I understand why the decision was taken to make this picture more accessible with its PG rating.

Despite this, what makes Amazing Grace a must-see for every Christian are its spiritual lessons. When discussing his conversion, Newton tells Wilberforce that sometimes God uses drizzle instead of a wave to bring about change, and it is this drip-drip of political manoeuvring to bring about a change in opinion that ultimately brought about the abolition of slavery. When Wilberforce is converted, he dithers about whether he should serve God or go into politics. He is torn until someone points out that he is called to serve God through politics. This point is more vitally important than ever at a time when the United Kingdom is under threat from increasingly insidiously anti-Christian legislation. It is my sincere prayer that Christians called to the political arena see this film, get a revelation that like Wilberforce they must be in the world but not of the world, and are inspired to take up whatever challenges they must face. For that reason alone, Amazing Grace is the single most important film for Christians since The Passion of the Christ.

Simon Dillon, March 2007.

Che Guevara is probably most famous as an image - the printed T-shirt of an unshaven Che looking into the distance, beret stuffed onto a mop of restless hair, inspiring the world. Whatever that might or might not inspire in you, the fact is that Guevara has become a poster-boy for the idea of revolution, even if those who wear his T-shirt these days wouldn’t think about rising up and changing the world - it’s a worthy idea. Well, before revolution became a worthy idea, Ernesto Guevara was a typical college medical student in search of fun and adventure, and with his friend Alberto Granado discovered why revolution was necessary on his continent.

Walter Salles’ The Motorcycle Diaries documents a trip Guevara and Granado took in 1951-2 from Argentina through Chile, Peru, Colombia and Venezuela to a leper colony where they aimed to complete their medical residency. They get on the road on a most unreliable motorcycling beast looking for laughs, chicks and a bit of adventure, but soon become affected by the plight of the people around them. They pass through towns where nobody has any work, remote mountain villages which haven’t experienced any of the progress of the 20th century, and personal situations galore which affect the two men very differently. The two central performances, by Gael García Bernal as Guevara and Rodrigo De la Serna as Granada, do a great job of showing us two lives running parallel for a short time, before the need for social reform begins to affect one more than the other and lead him into the search for truth and justice for the suffering people he sees in every country they visit.

This sounds like one of those movies that falls into the ‘worthy-but-dull’ category as I describe it, but it is far from that. There is much to laugh at in the first half of the film, and while the tone may turn more serious as time goes on, it never descends into preachiness - I have a feeling that the film might not have gone down so well if the communism that Guevara ended up representing was in full force here. Instead of that, what we get is a sense of injustices being perpetrated on a people who have no idea how to combat them, and one man being awakened to that situation that he knew nothing about. In a certain montage sequence I was very much reminded of Jesus looking at the people around him ‘like sheep without a shepherd’, and Jesus’ response was compassion and love. You see the same heart response in Bernal’s performance, and his subsequent actions turned him into an inspirational leader for a large group of people. It took him a trip round a continent to find out what life was really like out there; in the present day, where information about how others in the world live is so readily available, what is it that’s stopping us doing our bit to combat social injustice, which is still very much with us? Buying fair trade products, recycling stuff or buying the Big Issue seem like a drop in the ocean when faced with governments and corporations who continue certain social injustices, but it’s a start, and it’s what we can do.

Hmm, how preachy have I got? Erm, anyway, it’s well worth a watch, but there is swearing throughout as I recall.

The most extraordinary thing about director Kevin MacDonald’s The Last King of Scotland is Forest Whitaker’s astounding performance as Idi Amin. At once charismatic, charming, brutal yet oddly vulnerable, he is one of the best screen villains for a long time. Amin is shown to be the murdering bully that he was, whilst at the same time his unpredictable, almost schizophrenic personality keeps the audience permanently on edge. Whitaker chews the scenery to within an inch of its life, and I confidently predict his best actor Oscar is as good as won.

It is all the more remarkable, given Whitaker’s commanding performance, that James McAvory more than holds his own in the complex supporting role of recently graduated Scottish doctor Nicholas Garrigan. In 1970, Garrigan travels to Uganda apparently through a desire to be a good man in Africa, but it is immediately apparent that he is an immoral youth, and the true reason for his visit is experience for experience’s sake.

Take for example his penchant for married women. It is clear from the beginning that this will contribute to his downfall when he tries to seduce the wife of the doctor in the Mission hospital where he works (Gillian Anderson in a small but effective role). Garrigan’s attitude to adultery is “its fun”, and he thinks nothing of the consequences. Shortly afterwards, he enters into a Faustian deal to become Amin’s personal physician at the dawn of his Presidency, thus leaving behind the Mission hospital he had previously committed himself to helping making it clear he is a man with little honour or loyalty.

Garrigan’s unlikely but compelling relationship with Amin provides the core of the fascinating drama. Amin is impressed by Garrigan speaking his mind, and slowly he becomes much more than a physician, advising him on political matters, how to handle the press and even informing on potential traitors in his cabinet. At the same time, he turns something of a blind eye to reports of massacres, and warnings from British foreign office officials in Kampala. Eventually however, when Garrigan decides he wants to leave the country, his passport is taken and he is told by Amin that he cannot leave. Aware of Garrigan’s dubious behaviour, the British foreign office refuses to help him get out unless he assassinates Amin. Incidentally, the British (or more accurately the English) do not come off well at all in this film, since it is clear that they supported Amin’s coup, yet when they realise they have made a mistake they try to recruit Garrigan to do their dirty work.

The second half of the film is much tougher, as Garrigan undertakes a disastrous affair with one of Amin’s wives, and the full horror of Amin’s regime becomes apparent. There are two particularly gruesome, wince-inducing sequences that will prove a tough watch for the faint of heart. In addition to violence, it’s only fair to also point out the presence of strong swearing, sex scenes and nudity. Whether or not they are contextually justified could be argued either way. I feel that perhaps a little more restraint could have been employed, but on the whole, there is nothing exploitative. Certainly the horrendous consequences of Garrigan’s affair with Amin’s wife are not glossed over, and morally the film exposes both Garrigan’s folly and Amin’s egomaniacal, murderous dictatorship in a mercilessly unsentimental manner. From a Christian perspective, there are interesting allegories that can be read into it regarding the wages of sin and – late in the film – how the most unworthy person can be saved.

In final analysis, Kevin MacDonald has crafted a first-rate political thriller. His background in documentaries (Touching the Void and the excellent, Oscar winning One Day in September) no doubt contributed to his vivid, gritty portrayal of 1970’s Uganda. In adapting Giles Foden’s novel, Jeremy Brock provides a riveting screenplay, skilfully weaving his fictitious incidents around factual events. But it is Forest Whitaker’s performance that remains the film’s crowning glory. His sudden mood swings, charismatic speeches, practical jokes, childish tantrums, and violent outbursts and make it impossible to tear your eyes away from the screen.

Simon Dillon, January 2007.

Much-loved composer Cole Porter (Kevin Kline) looks back on his life as if it was one of his spectacular stage shows, with people and events becoming the actors and action onstage. The film just revealed how unpleasant and selfish a man Porter was, with very little to redeem the character - that’s real life I guess. His astonishing relationship with his wife was just pitiful to witness, and if you don’t particularly care about his music, it’s not going to hold your interest much really. The other thing you’re supposed to enjoy is spotting the musical cameos of varied performers such as Alanis Morissette, Elvis Costello, and everyone’s favourite self-obsessed grinning idiot, Robbie Williams. Sadly these appearances couldn’t redeem the picture for us.

Watching Capote brought to mind – of all things – Woody Allen’s superb Bullets over Broadway. Why did this grim, serious drama remind me of a light farcical comedy? I’ll come back to this later.

Director Bennett Miller’s biopic tells how celebrated writer Truman Capote’s most famous novel In Cold Blood came into being. I read In Cold Blood whilst studying English A-level and I must confess for all its undeniable brilliance the novel left me…well, cold. During my studies, I also saw Richard Brooks’ 1967 film adaptation which again was brilliant but cold. Capote however, is a slightly different animal as it deals less with the grisly specifics of the case and more the journalistic and artistic process, which as a writer is of great interest to me.

In 1959, when Capote wrote for The New Yorker, he learnt about the horrific senseless murders of the Clutter family in Kansas. Inspired by the story, Capote and fellow author Harper Lee (her brilliant novel To Kill a Mockingbird had just been released to great acclaim), travel to Kansas to research an article on the effect the killings have had on the local town. However, as Capote digs deeper, he is inspired to write a book. In doing so he arranges interviews with the killers, and takes a particular interest in one of them: Perry Smith.

His apparent compassion for Perry prompts him to find them a lawyer to get them an appeal. However, his true motive for not wanting the killers executed is they have yet to reveal exactly what transpired on the night of the murders. Yet when Perry does finally provide this, Capote is frustrated as his book doesn’t have an ending and despite pangs of conscience, deep down he then wants to see the killers executed so he can complete his masterpiece, even if it is at the cost of his own soul.

As he works on his book, Capote finds he is writing a masterpiece which he calls “the non-fiction book of the decade”. When he says this he isn’t exactly being arrogant, simply stating what he believes to be the truth. And he was right. In Cold Blood was groundbreaking, and unfortunately opened the floodgates for all manner of lesser works – the lurid “true crime” stories that clutter up bookshops these days.

Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s Oscar winning turn is the main reason for seeing this film, and anyone who has seen archive footage of Capote will agree he has completely nailed his speech and mannerisms. Given that he was such a flamboyant homosexual, I am amazed he wasn’t himself murdered by Middle American in-bred thugs before he managed to do an iota of research on his book. Incidentally, Capote’s homosexuality is dealt with matter-of-factly in this film, unlike Brokeback Mountain’s propagandist approach, so there is nothing for Christians to get hot under their dog-collars about. However, some may object to the occasional swearing and brief but brutal and bloody recreations of the murders – necessary in my opinion, but worth warning about nonetheless.

Hoffman’s performance provides an intriguing insight into making of a seminal book, and it asks the question, how far is too far in the pursuit of art? Harper Lee provides the film’s voice of reason, and points out to Capote after the execution finally happens that at least he is still alive. But Capote never really recovered, and didn’t complete another novel right up to his death in 1984.

And here we return to Woody Allen. Bullets over Broadway dealt with the same question, how far is too far in the pursuit of art, with far more wit and entertainment value, than this worthy but sombre film. My good friend Charles Storrar summed up Capote as follows, and I have to say that despite the films undoubted merits, I think he has a point:

“It’s unfair to say the film produces insufficient emotional response. What it provokes above all is a strong desire to punch Truman Capote’s self-serving, self-obsessed, lying, arrogant, bitchy, name-dropping, effeminate, whining face… But since you can’t punch him, you might as well do what my friend did and fall asleep.”

Simon Dillon, March 2006.

Watch with caution. It’s a few years old now, and there might well be those of you out there who find what we have to say about it over the top and/or reactionary, but we saw Luc Besson’s vision of the life of Jeanne d’Arc last night, and were quite disturbed by it. This review will contain major spoilers, for which I apologise, so if you have any intention of seeing the film, do so before reading this. And then comment!

The story is familiar enough: teenage Jeanne becomes convinced she is being given messages and a purpose by God, namely that of leading the flailing French armies against the English and whipping their scummy butts out of France. Oh, what a surprise, the English are the enemy again! Anyway, I won’t dwell on that. She achieves a modicum of success, especially at Orleans, despite the inevitable view that a girl couldn’t possibly do what she was attempting to do. Then the ‘Oh look, she can!’ amazement becomes “Hmm, I’m male and therefore afraid of this” and she is, and I choose my words carefully, castrated with regard to any power over the army or the king’s business. The ‘Holy Mother Church’, as the Catholic authorities continually refer to themselves (and don’t even get me started on what’s wrong there) decide that they don’t like an illiterate peasant girl having these messages from God either (that is their domain, after all, and they hold the authority), and set out on a mission to prove her a heretic at the English king’s behest. They are, as we know, successful and Jeanne ends up burning at the stake for her ‘heresy’.

We didn’t hold much hope for liking this much, and in that respect it lived up to our expectations, but the film takes such a concerning spiritual standpoint that this forum is ideal for discussing it, probably at some length. More of that later. The action stuff is well-handled, with some suitably gruesome medieval war scenes (boy am I glad I wasn’t alive then); likewise the male characters around Jeanne make for an interesting collection, from the weak-willed and uncertain Dauphin (John Malkovich) to the initially sneering but ultimately loyal army captains she fights alongside. And Milla Jovovich (Besson’s then-wife) herself as Jeanne does a perfectly good job of portraying someone by turns forceful, determined, unsure, panicky, exhilarated and possibly insane. What we’re supposed to conclude about her is less clear, and is all tied up with the spiritual element of the movie. Before I get into that, I should just say that one of the factors that gets Jeanne stoked up to defeat the English is the murder and rape of her sister at their hands, an intensely unpleasant scene that comes early on and which had us reaching for the fast forward button on the remote.

Jeanne receives messages from God, the main one being that He hates the English and has given her the power to kick them out of France. For me, this is enough to know that this was not from God - there is no people group on the Earth which receives more or less love from God than any other. Yes, when He was establishing the land for the Israelites he told them to wipe out the nations currently inhabiting the land, but that was to fulfil a promise He had made to his people and to give them the space to live purely in a place. They never managed it, but that’s beside the point. The war featured in the film is not the same situation at all. So Jeanne was either deluded, fiercely patriotic, or both. The presentation in the film favours the latter. That she believed she was acting under God’s instruction is clear from history and the film, which is what makes it such a tragedy; she failed because she wasn’t operating under His will at all.

In fact, this is made quite clear through the introduction of the Dustin Hoffman character in the latter part of the movie (the section which many other reviews lament, due to the fact that her heroic acts dry up). To us, he is clearly presented as Satan tormenting Jeanne with the notion that it was in fact him who planted the messages in her head, and she who developed them into action based on her human desire for excitement or recognition or national pride. Now in other reviews I have read, the assumption was made that this character is in fact God. I can’t accept this reading; the God I know has no interest in causing his beloved to suffer through planting doubt in their heads. I also think that this is ignoring certain other aspects of Jeanne’s spiritual encounters as presented in the film.

The first time we see her is in confession (which, by the way, she is addicted to. She cannot operate properly without confessing every day in the film. This is not a relationship with God, especially as it has to be done through a priestly intermediary. This is not even ’spirituality’, a word I’m not sure I should use. This is bondage, pure and simple). Immediately afterwards she runs across fields, delirious with her perceived closeness to God, and lies down in the grass where a sword ‘miraculously’ appears beside her. On the screen, her arms are out, so she forms a cross shape. So does the sword next to her. But the camera is placed at her head rather than her feet, thereby creating the image of two upside-down crosses. This is not an accident on Besson’s part, but a deliberate decision and, it seems to me, a statement of belief regarding where her visions came from. Very surprising from a French director making a film about a French heroine. Or perhaps he simply was telling us what he believes about God.

This theory would be borne out by the presentation of every other spiritual encounter in the movie. Each one is sinister in some way; the camera judders uncomfortably, the Jesus character stares and points in an unsettling way, things and people transform into other things, sometimes horrifically. In short, this has no relation to the ways the Bible says God speaks to us. Sadly, this peasant girl, so steeped in arcane Catholic tradition and unable to read the Bible for herself, has no way of knowing that her relationship with God should not be like this at all. She shouldn’t wake up from spiritual flashbacks petrified and unable to make sense of the world; and Besson, if this is his view of ‘being at one’ with God (a phrase used in the film), is also sadly mistaken.

There is, however, one tiny glimpse of hope. The very last shot of the film, through the flames of Jeanne’s pyre, is a simple cross. Perhaps, let us hope, that Besson is telling us that when all the trappings and unpleasantness of religious fervour and tradition are burned and done away with, the sacrifice of Jesus remains true. This doesn’t, however, redeem a movie that I cannot recommend.

James Mangold is not a director I usually get terribly excited about. In the past he has made a smattering of diverse pictures ranging from muddled psycho thriller Identity to well-acted but unmemorable police drama Copland and even a half-baked One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest wannabe, Girl, Interrupted.

Walk the Line however, is easily his best film to date. This biopic of Rock/Country legend Johnny Cash is a handsome, brilliantly acted and very entertaining couple of hours. That’s the good news. The bad news is that it’s very similar to last years Ray (which is probably what caused it to be overlooked in the Best Picture category at this years Oscar nominations).

Both films have episodes of childhood trauma involving the death of a brother and parental “issues”, both chart the early successes of their respective artists and their slide into womanising and drug addiction. Rehab and redemption follow, and as such it is remarkable how similar the lives of Ray Charles and Johnny Cash appear to be.

However, upon closer inspection there are key differences. Although obviously a musical, Walk the Line is much more concerned with the love story and on/off relationship between Cash and singer June Carter over several years. Both go through a series of disastrous marriages before finally realising they are meant for each other. By the way, the climactic proposal on stage may seem improbable, but it apparently did happen. Of course, in reality, Johnny and June ultimately became Christians. This is hinted at in the film, but never mentioned explicitly.

The other main difference between this and Ray is that Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon are actually singing (very well), whereas Jamie Fox’s music numbers were dubbed. Both give outstanding performances. Phoenix has been dubbed “the new Brando” by a colleague of mine and whilst I wouldn’t go that far, he is very good indeed. As for Witherspoon, she is completely convincing, and I’d say her Oscar win is a virtual certainty.

In final analysis, Walk the Line and Ray are about as good as each other, although ultimately I prefer Ray, as his music is far more to my taste.

Simon Dillon, February 2006.

I should write a lot more about this but I’m not going to, partly because it’s late and partly because I’ve got things to do that should be regarded as more worth my time. Finding Neverland is the mostly true story of the inspiration for J M Barrie’s Peter Pan. Barrie (Johnny Depp, always superb), a struggling playwright working in turn-of-the-century London, trapped in a loveless marriage with a woman more obsessed with furthering her social standing than having anything to do with her husband, meets a family of four boys and their widowed mother, played by Kate Winslet. The Llewellyn-Davies family, with its energy and child-focussed nature, inspires Barrie to write his next play, and he engages them in friendship at considerable personal cost. He takes the boys on trips through their imagination to the Wild West and pirate ships, and encourages them to explore their creative sides, even though the loss of their father is forcing some of them to grow up and become disenchanted with life too soon. As he observes them, plays with them, laughs and cries with them and particularly with Peter, played by Freddie Highmore, he writes his masterpiece.

A more personal movie about a celebrity is hard to find. This is exactly what Barrie was in his society, but he as portrayed by Depp is totally out of his depth in that kind of environment, and totally at home playing make-believe with 4 boisterous boys. We often see the movie shift into full-blown imaginary environments which are lovely to behold; director Marc Forster does a wonderful job with these sequences, and also with giving us a very child-like viewpoint in many scenes, literally. For example: you see the boys looking upstairs to check how their mum is when taken ill, and all that can be seen is the 2 pairs of shoes of the people talking on the landing. The movie speaks to adults and kids alike, having such a young-hearted central character and an actually young supporting cast, and gives a wonderful picture of what family can be.

There is much more to be said than I’m going to here, but just a word about the ending, which was a slight disappointment (so please don’t read the rest if you haven’t seen the film). Barrie’s fixation with not growing up (a la Peter Pan himself) is odd and worrying to some of the people around him, but he says lots of good things to the boys about the need for them to reach the point where they become men rather than boys. However, when he tells Peter at the end that he’ll always be able to see his mum even though she’s no longer there, through his imagination, it feels like a lie told to aid his grieving, which is what Peter was so upset about earlier in the film. Not only that, but it reinforces the notion of not letting go and growing up past that point, but of holding onto the past - and when that past involves a dead loved one, we all know how unhealthy that can be. As well as this, it goes against my beliefs about life & death, which was a shame as the rest of the film had been great.