The Greatest Trick

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.

Fans of elaborate frocks and silly beards will find much to enjoy in Elizabeth The Golden Age, the sequel to 1998’s Elizabeth. My personal frock/beard high point was the Spanish Ambassador, whose performance reflected his costume in that it epitomized a highly gigglesome slice of pantomime cartoon villainy.

Equally amusing was Clive Owen’s ludicrously dashing Walter Raleigh, who comes back from the New World bearing tobacco and potatoes. He attempts to gain favour with Queen Elizabeth for a new expedition and seduces one of her ladies in waiting in the process. When Elizabeth finds out she’s not too chuffed, because she rather fancied him herself (even though the relationship would have been impossible).

But the plot mostly concerns those dastardly Catholics and their Armada. Those of you who paid attention in history lessons will recall Prince Phillip of Spain was less than happy with a Protestant on the throne of England and wanted to depose her. Not that history is really on the agenda here. The filmmakers play very fast and loose with facts but only a real bore would quibble as the frocks and beards more than make up for this.

Whereas the first Elizabeth was a superb historical political thriller which earned itself a place on my ten best films of 1998 list, this is much more sprawling affair and is unlikely to repeat the trick. However, Cate Blanchett is terrific and for her this is a triumphant return to the role that made her famous. Who knows? Perhaps this will get her more than an Oscar nomination this time (if Academy voters are happy to give the award to two Queen Elizabeths two years in a row). Geoffrey Rush’s Walsingham is another major plus, making a welcome return after his excellent supporting role in the first film. Here his character is older, more melancholy and he discovers his judgement isn’t as deviously sharp as it once was.

Make no mistake; Elizabeth The Golden Age is a mess. Wildly uneven in tone, the screenplay is a muddle and lurches awkwardly between court intrigues, soapish melodrama and special effects blockbuster (the Armada scenes). That said Cate Blanchett somehow manages to hold the thing together and director Shekhar Kapur calls the shots with flair.

Because Kapur has played up the Elizabeth myth at the expense of historical veracity, this ultimately takes on the look and feel of a fairy tale, particularly in the final act. An armour clad Elizabeth sitting astride her noble steed in silhouette overlooking the Armada battle from a cliff top is an image that wouldn’t look out of place in one of the Lord of the Rings films.

Therefore, in attaining the feel of a fantasy epic, the film takes on new allegorical and spiritual layers of meaning which will resonate strongly with modern audiences. These days Britain might not face a literal Armada, but it is locked in religious conflict with Islamic terrorists and it becomes impossible not to see cautionary contemporary parallels when Elizabeth’s advisors urge her to arrest Catholics and execute Mary Queen of Scots (played by a typically oppressed looking Samantha Mortensen).

Above all, this is a film that extols that most unfashionable of virtues: patriotism. Britain today has been weakened by Armadas in the form of the EU, political correctness, the nanny state, a blame culture and many other things, but Elizabeth The Golden Age celebrates the indomitable spirit of a nation that refused to kowtow to aggression, fought and won despite the odds. It also dares whisper, albeit subliminally, that Britain could be that nation again.

So it’s worth a look for that as well as the frocks and beards.

Simon Dillon, November 2007.

No, not the title of an obscure American indie feature (although perhaps it should be), but an indicator that we haven’t reviewed anything fully for some months and have gotten behind. So the following will also not be full reviews, but snapshots which we really want comments and questions on.

Knife in the Water (1962, drama/thriller, 3 stars) - The first feature film directed by Roman Polanski, his only Polish-language production and a pre-cursor to several more modern thrillers by other film-makers, and I’m thinking most readily here of Dead Calm and The Talented Mr Ripley in its plot and themes. A middle-class married couple, he middle-aged and she a fair amount younger, nearly run over a young hitch-hiker carrying a hunting knife and an attitude. Instead of just giving him a lift to his destination, they invite him to spend a day with him on their small yacht, for no discernible reason other than to patronize him. The young man takes all he can get from them, however, in more ways than one, and when competition between old and young men turns more serious, the tension racks up and the stakes are distinctly raised. Despite the wide-open vistas of the lake and surrounding land, it is claustrophobia that one feels more than anything, and that boat looks like the smallest living space ever when there is just one sailor too many.

Alien Autopsy (2006, comedy, 3 stars) - Ant and Dec star in a film documenting the facts behind the alien autopsy hoax revealed in 1995 regarding the dissection of an alien body found in the Roswell crash of 1947 (but it’s not a documentary, clearly). They are the 2 hoaxers, who just happen to come into possession of some sensitive film and see an opportunity to use it. It’s a good laugh, won’t challenge anyone but is most suitable for a Friday night’s viewing with some popcorn. Ant & Dec aren’t really actors any more, even though they started that way in their teens; they just play their charming selves and that’s enough for this story.

Kingdom of Heaven (2005, war/”historical”, 1 star) - Alien. Blade Runner. Thelma and Louise. Gladiator. Ridley Scott directed all these films, and each one is VERY highly thought of in filmic circles, even if they might not be to your tastes. I love all of them except T&L, which I’ve only seen the once. What I refuse to believe is that he also “directed” this unbelievably stinking messy pile of a movie, AND gave it a spiritual-sounding name!! I don’t think I have ever seen a bigger waste of resources thrown together to make a movie that clearly cost a lot of money to end up with such a shoddy result. Problems - there is no plot (need I go further)? No, seriously, until 3/4 of the way through I had no idea what the characters’ major objective was, or their main obstacle either. It was just a film where stuff happened. Orlando Bloom (or, as Mark Kermode regularly refers to him, Orloondo Bland) will never be as interesting and promising as he was in Lord of the Rings, and he couldn’t do anything with the lack of character given to him by the script here. A perfect marriage of crap material and uninspiring actor. I had half an idea that the battle scenes might be worth watching from such a visual master as Scott - I fell asleep during them. UNBELIEVABLE! Watch Gladiator for evidence that Scott can do this brilliantly - what the hell happened? My time is precious to me these days, especially leisure time, and I actually feel angry with Ridley Scott for stealing an evening from me with this indescribable pap.

More mini-reviews to follow soon…

Several years ago I attended a boxing match with some friends. I didn’t know quite what to expect and half wondered whether I would find my sensibilities too delicate for the gladiatorial spectacle. However, I needn’t have worried. Within minutes, all pretensions of being civilised evaporated and I was howling for blood with the rest of the crowd.

I had much the same trepidation about going to see 300, director Zack Snyder’s adaptation of Frank Miller’s graphic novel about the Battle of Thermopylae in 480 B.C, where three hundred Spartans stood against the vastly superior numbers of the Persian army. But again, within minutes I was completely sucked into the thrillingly blood-soaked battles. Watching 300 is the modern day equivalent of watching the Roman games, and its popularity puts a magnifying glass on the unfortunate baser instincts of human nature, for which I must put my hands up and plead guilty.

Make no mistake – this is absolutely not for the faint of heart. Heads, limbs and other body parts are hacked are severed throughout. Blood splashes in all directions and the highly stylised violence will challenge even the hardiest viewer. This is not a film where warfare is depicted realistically, nor one that wants to say war is hell, but in fact the exact opposite. Indeed, 300 is so steeped in the courage of its militaristic convictions that one almost finds oneself nodding in agreement that gruesome death in battle is the highest possible honour.

It seems pointless to descend into sanctimonious ramblings about gratuitous violence (not to mention sex and nudity) when everything about this film is gratuitous. Subtlety, understatement and complexity are not to be found, yet the carnage is so overheated and intense that somehow it goes beyond the point of being gratuitous and seems to become art. Which makes sense, since this has the look and feel of the comic book on which it is based (much like the other Frank Miller adaptation, Sin City).

To be fair, there is a smidgeon of positive moral and spiritual content amid the severed limbs. A curious spiritual warfare allegory in a couple of scenes has Xerxes trying to tempt Spartan King Leonidas with untold riches if he would only bow to him, which has vague Biblical echoes of Jesus being tempted in the wilderness by Satan. On a less spiritual note, it’s impossible not to admire the Spartans for their bravery and honour.

Although the acting is pretty much one-note, it’s a very good note. Gerard Butler is terrific as King Leonidas. Dominic West provides good support as Theron, Rodrigo Santoro makes a suitably odious King Xerxes, and as Dilios David Wenham’s performance and narration are both spot on. On the other hand Lena Headey doesn’t really have much of a chance to shine as Queen Gorgo, simply because the battle is so much more interesting than her boring subplot in which she tries and get the corrupt Sparta council to send in the army as back up.

It seems utterly redundant to say that this is a visually stunning film, art directed to within an inch of its life. The colour palette carefully matches that of the original comic, and the use of CGI has a deliberately larger-than-life feel. In places, one is even reminded of Sauron’s army in The Lord of the Rings since Xerxes has what appear to be orcs, trolls and giant elephants at his command. The sound effects and Hans Zimmer-esque music score (Tyler Bates) are surprisingly effective, and the end credit title sequence is superb.

Interestingly, the Iranian government have attacked this film because of its depiction of the ancient Persians. Given how 300 is clearly intended as an American right-wing fantasy (with immaculate Aryan warriors fighting dark skinned orc-like freaks), this offence is understandable, but I can’t say I particularly sympathise, especially since it is so removed from real life, and also given recent current events. Anyway, I doubt 300 will make anyone a racist – they’ll be on too much of a high from the adrenaline charged fights to read anything into it.

To summarise, if you’re even remotely squeamish, avoid 300 like the plague. If you’re a historian, you’ll be annoyed at the many liberties taken. If you’re looking for thought provoking drama look elsewhere. But whilst I can’t in good conscience recommend this to anyone, I also have to admit that, like the boxing match I attended, I enjoyed it immensely.

Simon Dillon, April 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.

First, let me admit that I am not a fan of Jane Austen’s books. I admire her genius as a writer, and am fully prepared to admit that her stories, characters and social observations are witty and exceptionally well-crafted, but I’ve always found them a bit too squeaky clean. I much prefer the dark, passionate worlds of the Bronte sisters – Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre are two of my all time favourite novels – as they are much more suited to my temperament.

By the same token, the various television and film adaptations of Jane Austen, such as the BBC’s seminal 1995 version of Pride and Prejudice and Ang Lee’s film of Sense and Sensibility, although brilliantly adapted, acted and directed, also leave me cold. I therefore approached Becoming Jane, the latest in the current vogue of films about writers, with some trepidation.

Which makes it all the more delightful to report that Becoming Jane is very good indeed. Witty and amusing, but also moving and melancholy, it is a must-see both for fans of Austen and for fans of romantic cinema in general.

The story covers the usual territory one expects in such films – Jane Austen has a passion for writing, and would love to be financial independent by selling her work, but she is also the daughter of an Anglican priest in financial dire straits. Her only hope is to marry into money, but she is determined to marry for love. She receives an offer from a rich suitor Mr Wisley, but feels nothing for him. However, after meeting the dashing Tom Lefroy, the nephew of harsh London judge Mr Langlois, an attraction begins to develop. Of course, at first she despises him, especially as he falls asleep in one of her readings, but he offers to “broaden her horizons” in the interests of helping her writing improve, and soon he starts to resemble Mr Darcy without the money.

Speaking of Mr Darcy, the various characters in the story end up inspiring characters from Austen’s best loved novels; Jane’s sister Cassandra is Jane Bennett, her mother and father are Mr and Mrs Bennett, Lady Gresham is Lady Catherine De-Burgh, Mr Wisley has hints of Colonel Brandon, and so on. Many events in the story end up inspiring events in the novels, and obviously that is part of the fun. How much licence has been taken with the facts, I do not know. Neither do I care.

When it was announced that Anne Hathaway, an American, was playing the part of Jane, several Austen purists were incensed. Why not Keira Knightly or Kate Winslet? Well, frankly Hathaway is every bit as good here as she was in The Devil Wears Prada, and her accent is fine. Many American actors can pull off British accents (Renee Zellweger in Bridget Jones’ Diary is a good recent example), and quite honestly Hathaway fits the part like a glove in both looks and performance.

Hathaway is well matched with James McAvoy’s Tom, and there is genuine chemistry between the two. McAvoy is rapidly becoming one of the best young British actors in the business, and after the double whammy of this and The Last King of Scotland, he really has become a name to look out for.

Elsewhere, Julie Walters does a fine job as Jane’s mother as does the always excellent James Cromwell playing Jane’s father. Maggie Smith is suitably odious as Lady Gresham, and Ian Richardson is equally odious as Judge Langlois. Anna Maxwell Martin strikes a suitably tragic note as Cassandra, and there is a smattering of memorable bit parts, including Joe Anderson as Henry Austen, Jane’s deaf/mute brother.

Director Julian Jarrod’s skilled framing of widescreen space and cinematographer Eigel Bryld’s great use of natural light make this worth catching on the big screen. The story is well paced, and Adrian Johnston contributes a fine music score. Kevin Hood and Sarah William’s screenplay does lurch from witty romantic comedy to melodrama at the halfway point, but the transition feels natural, especially given that although Austen was determined to give her characters happy endings, in real life that was not always the case. Austen’s novels deliberately avoided much of what was going on in the world at the time, such as the Napoleonic war, but this film does not, and it is this slight edginess that makes Becoming Jane unique.

In final analysis, as films about writers go, this doesn’t quite reach the dizzy heights of Finding Neverland, but it’s still a fascinating insight and enjoyable romantic wallow, regardless of how many facts may have been tweaked.

Simon Dillon, March 2007.

In this day and age most of us are not used to black and white. Some of us are not used to watching films in another language, or documentaries in the cinema. There are almost none who are used to seeing bare-faced propaganda, and this film is a combination of all four, which was clearly designed to impress the German cinema-going public of 1935. And while jarring and disturbing to watch what would become one of the most evil regimes of the 20th Century promote itself so openly, I must confess to falling slightly asleep at certain points…

Hitler appointed director Leni Riefenstahl (personally, apparently) to document the Nazi party rally of 1934, so it is unsurprising that the film has a distinct political bent. What you get to see goes as follows: ranks and ranks of the amassed, newly-fortified German army, displaying both numerical and technological readiness for the years ahead (of course, watching this in hindsight must be a very different experience to how the original viewers saw it); speeches from the Nazi top brass - Hitler, Himmler, Goering, Goebbels, Hess and several you won’t have heard of unless you’re a historian all get their time in the limelight; endless shots of marching and motorcades (the afore-mentioned napping opportunities); Hitler, specifically, being treated like a superstar by all and sundry (which, of course, he was - viewers must remember that this was the man who had been vital in the re-building of Germany, and that the people he was leading had no reason at this point to suspect him of tendencies towards dictatorship - he had only been Chancellor a year in 1934) - you start to think “if only they knew” over and over again; swastikas hung liberally over every possible building; and most troubling, the Hitler Youth being instructed in the ways of the party and intoning a kind of call-and-response liturgy detailing their unwavering loyalty to country and Fuhrer.

Most reviewers give the film very high ratings, because it is done beautifully - hence its power and terrifying nature. But among the glorious overhead shots and sweeping vistas of the German army in all its glory, there were moments of boredom for me. The IMDb review says that the film defies a star rating; I can agree with this, but not for quite the same reason - what you are watching is history playing itself out, and yes, it’s been shot and edited in a certain way to make the audience feel or think a certain thing, but nothing here is fake. And if nothing else, the film is important because if we ever see a regime displaying this kind of self-promotion again, we know to be extremely mistrustful. From a Christian point of view, there are none of the usual things that would upset viewers (sex, violence, language) - but don’t expect to watch this film and not be disturbed by it to some extent.

Making another film about an ancient culture in its original language may appear to be a risky move for Mel Gibson, but Apocalypto is something of a surprise. It’s essentially a jungle set adventure with a smattering of cerebral overtones that get buried under an avalanche of violence and gore. And boy is it gory. Mel Gibson’s two previous directorial efforts Braveheart and The Passion of the Christ were both epic bloodbaths, but Apocalypto is his most brutally violent work to date. Not that I’m complaining. Frankly I don’t think the film would have been the effective, sweaty palmed, heart-pounding experience it was had the violence been toned down. I simply note it at the beginning of this review to underline that this is most emphatically not a movie for the faint of heart.

The story begins as the protagonist Jaguar Paw (the excellent Rudy Youngblood) and his friends hunt and kill a tapir in the forest. They joke together like a bunch of high school jocks, and play practical jokes on one of their number for his inability to impregnate his wife. It’s a peculiar opening, and the grotesque pranks immediately make one think of frat pack comedies like American Pie, only set in the Mayan jungles.

Ten minutes or so later, the tone suddenly changes when a village elder tells an ominous story about man’s merciless ravaging of the Earth, which has contemporary relevance as well as referring to the impending collapse of the Mayan civilisation. This momentary pause for thought is shattered by an attack of warriors who rape and massacre several in the village. The survivors, including Jaguar Paw are captured (except Jaguar Paw’s son and pregnant wife who managed to hide). The children who weren’t killed in the raid are cruelly left behind. At this point, we’re in Schindler’s List territory, and the viewer mentally maps out a serious drama as the captives are brutally marched to a Mayan city. Here, a vast human sacrifice ceremony is in full swing which spares the audience nothing. Victims have their hearts cut out, before being decapitated and have their heads erected on spikes. When it comes to Jaguar Paw’s turn however, there is a reprieve caused by a solar eclipse (a great use of a hoary old cliché).

At this point, Jaguar Paw makes his escape and the story takes yet another drastic change in tone. As he is pursued through the jungle, the film becomes an all-out chase. Gradually the hunters become the hunted as Jaguar Paw finds new and ingeniously gruesome ways of dispensing with his enemies, all the time, trying to get back to his wife and child. And it is here that the story is at its most conventional, as every jungle peril cliché is thrown in for good measure. But this is also the most enjoyable part of the film, as Gibson breathes new life into the action-adventure genre through his undeniably unique setting.

The entire cast (mostly made up of non-professionals) are excellent, especially Rudy Youngblood. On a technical level, the cinematography, production design, editing, sound and visual effects are all terrific, and James Horner’s unusually low-key music score compliments the action well. But it is Gibson who remains the star of the show. His lavish, unsubtle, but undeniably effective style feels like a curious cross between Cecil B De Mille, and Sam Peckinpah.

Overall, Apocalypto is too jarringly eneven to be considered a masterpiece. But it is never boring, neither does it feel overlong. The ending even has an implicit Christian worldview (although Empire magazine read the opposite into it), suggesting that Christianity was ultimately the answer to the barbarism the Mayans had descended into. What’s more interesting is the way parallels are drawn with the present day. There are forms of human sacrifice in our own culture, whether it’s sending troops to Iraq, abortion, or whatever you want to read into it. Gibson wants to warn us about the dangers of such things, and show us where it will ultimately end. However, I doubt anyone will pick up on this message. They’ll be too breathless from the stunningly violent action to notice.

Simon Dillon, January 2007.

Clint Eastwood’s most recent directorial project Flags of our Fathers is a sombre, meditative fact-based war film concerning the battle for Iwo Jima in World War II, and how three soldiers came to be regarded as heroes simply for appearing in a photograph which showed them raising the American flag. This photograph proved to be excellent morale raising propaganda back in the States, and was even turned into a famous memorial statue in Washington DC after the war.

The film tells the story of John Bradley (Jesse Bradford), Rene Gagnon (Ryan Phillippe), and Ira Hayes (Adam Beach), three of the soldiers who appeared in the photograph. Following the battle to secure Iwo Jima, they are ordered to return to the States to help raise money to cover the ever escalating costs of the war by giving interviews and appearing at functions where they are endlessly praised as heroes.

Bradley is ambivalent about his new found celebrity status, and simply sees his task as following orders. Gagnon attempts to take as much advantage of the publicity as he can, as does his fiancé Melanie (Pauline Harnois). But Hayes feels guilt-ridden and slides into alcoholism because he cannot see why he should be regarded as any more of a hero than his comrades simply because he appeared in the photo.

The fascinating facts surrounding the actual flag raising are later revealed as it becomes clear one of the soldiers in the photo who later died was misidentified. Furthermore, for complicated reasons, the actual flag raising was done twice, which is what led to the confusion over exactly who was in it. These factors all contribute to Hayes increasing despair, and ultimately when the war is won, his tragic fall into obscurity provides the most interesting dramatic arc of the film. One particularly poignant moment sees him being refused alcohol in a bar in spite of his status as an all American hero, because he is a Native American.

The film is structured in rather awkward flashbacks, and certainly feels too long. A framing device involving Bradley’s son investigating his father’s life seems tacked on and as a result falls flat emotionally.

On the plus side, performances are all good, especially from Ryan Phillippe and Adam Beach. There are also some good bit parts from the likes of Robert Patrick, Barry Pepper and Jamie Bell. The battle scenes are both epic and appropriately gritty. Steven Spielberg, who acts as producer on this film, redefined the look of the war film with Saving Private Ryan, and visually this continues the trend of fierce graphic violence, muted colours, and hand-held camerawork. But Eastwood tries to make the film his own by introducing swooping shots of the battleships and warplanes which give the film a more epic feel. He doesn’t succeed entirely, and the mixture of old-school war epics and post Saving Private Ryan documentary realism feels a bit like attempting to mix oil and water.

On the whole, Flags of our Fathers is a modest success. It’s good, but not as powerful or moving as it should be, and at times veers dangerously close to the “worthy-but-dull” category. Its insights into the nature of heroism are interesting, but not terribly profound. It makes the obvious points that it was a necessary evil to make heroes out of those men, but that war is hell, and the real heroes are those who died. I am looking forward to seeing Letters from Iwo Jima, Eastwood’s companion piece due out next year, which apparently tells the story from the side of the Japanese. By all accounts, it is a far more interesting picture than Flags of our Fathers.

But if you do see this, see it on a big screen, and stay for the closing credits which contain photographs from the actual battle for Iwo Jima. These are far more haunting than anything Eastwood has staged.

Simon Dillon, December 2006.