The Greatest Trick

Since Mamma Mia! has become such a massive box office success, I decided I really ought to give it a watch. My expectations were not high, but I enjoy musicals. Singin’ in the Rain, West Side Story and Top Hat are among my all time favourites and on a more contemporary note, I thoroughly enjoyed last years Hairspray. Also, as a fan of pop music in general, I am partial to Abba and was curious to see exactly what has made this film such a hit.

I do not wish to be accused of gender prejudice, so I am going to preface this review by saying many of my favourite films are movies that could be termed “women’s pictures” to use old Hollywood vernacular. Classics like All that Heaven Allows, Peyton Place, Mildred Pierce, and of course Gone with the Wind would be among these, along with occasional more contemporary pictures such as Four Weddings and a Funeral and Bridget Jones Diary (essentially Jane Austen with lower moral standards). Admittedly contemporary favourites aimed primarily at a female audience are few and far between as generally speaking Hollywood (and Britain) seems to have given up on such films for complex reasons I shan’t go into in this review.

Anyway, to the matter at hand. Mammia Mia! is absolutely ghastly. In case that wasn’t clear enough allow me to reiterate: it is toe-curlingly, mind-bogglingly, headache-inducingly bad. It is an unwieldy mess of gargantuan proportions that didn’t even make me laugh once. At several points, I told myself it couldn’t get any worse, only for the film to reach hideous new lows. By the end of this criminal waste of celluloid, I was ready to gouge out my eyeballs. Time to name and shame those responsible: step forward director Phyllida Lloyd and writer Catherine Johnson.

The plot concerns Sophie (Amanda Seyfried), a girl living on a Greek island who on the eve of her wedding wants to find out who her father is. After reading her mother’s secret diary she discovers it could be one of three men, so she invites them all to the wedding, unknown to her mother. That is merely the hook the entire cast use as an excuse to make complete idiots of themselves. But whilst I’m all in favour of pratfalls and slapstick in silly comedy musicals, this time it simply isn’t funny. The cast use their own singing voices, but this hasn’t the charm or novelty of – for example – Woody Allen’s Everyone says I love you. In between badly choreographed and flatly directed songs, the screenplay is like an episode of a really, really bad Australian soap opera with characters to match, especially the monumentally annoying Sophie and her even more annoying boyfriend Sky (Dominic Cooper), who I found myself wanting to stab to death with a toothpick.

Performances are all over the top, but not in a good way, and only Pierce Brosnan, who should be thoroughly ashamed of himself for starring in such rubbish, emerges with an iota of credibility. The rest of the cast – Meryl Streep, Colin Firth, Julie Walters, Stellan Skarsgard et al – all look like they are having fun, but crucially it is they who are having the fun, not the audience. There is not a shred of interesting character development or depth, and the plot is painfully predictable. No, I don’t care if that’s missing the point. Call me old fashioned, but I like these things, even in such lightweight alleged entertainment. Hairspray was light as a feather, but had characters with a modicum of complexity and even tackled a serious issue (institutional racism). Defenders of Mamma Mia! will counter that it’s supposed to be escapism and that its not what happens but how it happens that’s important. Well, I’m all for escapism, but the world of Mamma Mia! is not somewhere I would like to escape into, but somewhere I would want to escape from before my brain melted. Besides, regardless of whether it’s what happens or how it happens that’s important, in either case, the film is awful.

Since this is a movie aimed primarily at a female audience, I can only urge those women who have not seen it not to subject themselves to this rubbish, and demand that films aimed at them are actually good. However, at this stage, such statements are like shutting stable doors after the horse has bolted. Mamma Mia! has made more money at the international box office than The Dark Knight.

From a Christian perspective, this film represents the latest in a drip drip trend of moral relativism. The message seems to be that it doesn’t matter who Sophie’s father is, as long as her mother had a good time when she was young sleeping with lots of men. Well, that’s all right then. Of course, Christian morality is nowhere to be seen, having been soundly rejected by all concerned. Instead they seem to have swapped it for a kind of Greek neo-Paganism (there’s a silly subplot involving Aphrodite’s fountain). And of course, the obligatory token gay couple are present and politically correct in predictably annoying fashion.

If all this makes me sound like a prudish party pooper, good. The only – and I mean only – thing that prevents me from declaring Mamma Mia! to be the Antichrist, is the fact that I like the songs. This is particularly depressing as I could have stayed at home and listened to an Abba CD in the first place. During particularly excruciating moments in this film, I silently thanked the Lord that I was not watching a Celine Dion musical. Such a horror would not merely be a sign of the impending apocalypse, like this film, but THE apocalypse.

Simon Dillon, October 2008.

I MUST write something on my own blog! Terrible, I know, but I don’t think I’ve reviewed a movie since about September last year (hmm, just when I started Bible College, funny that). So I think I’ll make it fairly succinct, so I don’t stress over the whole affair.

Ken Branagh and Shakespeare - they’re a bit like bangers and mash. Rum and Coke. Fish and chips. I could go on, but you get the idea. His Hamlet is superb, his Much Ado very good, his Henry V, er, haven’t seen it. Probably very worthy. Anyway, this one is a bit odd. A 1930s version of the story (which I don’t know outside of this film, I must confess), interspersed with songs from the likes of Cole Porter, Jerome Kern and Irving Berlin, some of which work brilliantly and some feel like entering a whole other film. Anyway, to the story.

The King of Navarre (Alessandro Nivola) and his three best friends swear off women for three years to devote themselves to study, but the unexpected visit of the Princess of France (Alicia Silverstone, who really doesn’t seem to understand what she’s saying half the time) and her three handmaidens (oh, look at that, just the right numbers, how lucky Mr Shakespeare) forces them to break their vows. There are tricks with masks, there are mis-managed messages, there is a very silly character in the style of Malvolio from Twelfth Night, there is a court jester, etc etc. As far as I know it’s one of Bill’s weakest and least-known comedies, and our Ken kind of lives up to that. There are some fun musical numbers, and Ken himself totally convinces in terms of his delivery as Berowne, the last of the friends to admit he’s in love. But overall it’s very throwaway, and feels a bit of a mess at the beginning and the end.

Also, for a U, there is one dance number that is just a bit too suggestive for my liking.

Maverick director Tim Burton’s gothic sensibilities are unleashed in their purest form to date in his latest film, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. An adaptation of the groundbreaking and notorious Stephen Sondheim stage show, it’s an unlikely yet effective mixture of musical and horror film, replete with terrific numbers and gallons of blood.

For a while, Burton seemed to have lightened up his act with films like Big Fish and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. However, Sweeney Todd is a return to the darkness of Sleepy Hollow, and from a purely artistic standpoint, a thunderously good one.

For those unfamiliar with the plot, barber Benjamin Barker (Johnny Depp) returns to Britain after being falsely imprisoned and deported, courtesy of corrupt judge Turpin (Alan Rickman), who stole his wife and daughter. Under the pseudonym Sweeney Todd, he opens a barber shop above a café run by Mrs Lovett (Helena Bonham Carter) and finds a unique and bizarre way to exact bloody revenge not just on Turpin but many others.

Some have criticised Depp in the lead role, saying a trained singer ought to have taken the part, but I disagree. Even though he sounds suspiciously like David Bowie and occasionally gets the wrong note, his performance is so passionately theatrical it simply doesn’t matter. It works in the same way Woody Allen’s Everyone says I love you musical did, because as in that film, its about the passion of the singing, rather than hitting every note perfectly. Elsewhere, Helena Bonham Carter, Alan Rickman, Timothy Spall, and even Sacha Baron Cohen provide good support.

John Logan’s screenplay radically alters and/or cuts much of the stage version, but to good effect. The art direction and cinematography give new meaning to the term “gothic”, the musical orchestration is magnificent, and the whole twisted, utterly demented package is held together by Burton at the peak of his powers.

Alas, it is only from an artistic standpoint that I can commend Sweeney Todd. To complain about violence in such a stylised production seems churlish, yet for all its intended satirical black comedy (the wealthy metaphorically devour the poor, so why not literally devour them?) and pseudo-Shakespearean tragedy, Sweeney Todd still invites its audience to revel in buckets of blood and gore in a way that can hardly be defended as noble, lovely or true. In spite of its message on the futility of vengeance, the sight of Todd exacting his revenge is undeniably emotionally thrilling, and it is these feelings one is left with afterwards.

Therefore, in spite of its undoubted cinematic merits, I cannot in good conscience recommend Sweeney Todd.

Simon Dillon, January 2008.

Every so often I am forced to eat my words. After seeing trailers for Enchanted I thought it looked dreadful. I have a cordial dislike for obvious post-modernism in films and prefer my fairy tales served straight, without any nods and winks. However, after viewing it, I am forced, through gritted teeth, to admit that this is a genuinely charming family film and a triumphant return to form for Disney after years of downright mediocre output (Pixar animations notwithstanding).

Of course, sending up fairytales is nothing new. Most notably the Shrek films have gleefully and sometimes annoyingly spoofed the likes of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and others. But here it’s almost as though director Kevin Lima and screenwriter Bill Kelly are saying Disney can spoof their own products far more effectively – especially in a scene near the start involving a troll that looks suspiciously like Shrek.

Speaking of the opening, the film launches into a Snow White type story in an animated world with Princess Giselle (Amy Adams) awaiting her true love. Prince Edward (James Marsden) is searching for her, but a wicked queen, Narcissa (Susan Sarandon), is trying to keep them apart. This sequence is a deliberately syrupy, exaggerated version of classic Disney animated fare, but once Narcissa tricks Giselle and sends her to another world that turns out to be a live-action present day New York, the story takes an altogether different turn.

Giselle is soon helped by cynical, broken-hearted divorce lawyer Robert Phillip (Patrick Dempsey) and his six year old daughter Morgan (Rachel Covey – just the right side of too cute). Much hilarity ensues, as Giselle calls birds, rodents etc to clean up his apartment a la Snow White. In the meantime, Prince Edward has also entered New York, determined to track down Giselle, with a talking chipmunk who finds he cannot talk in our world, and Edward’s sidekick Nathaniel (Timothy Spall), who is secretly in league with Narcissa.

From there, things develop predictably but amusingly. There are several extremely funny one-liners, especially from the excellent James Marsden, whose hysterical performance is the best thing in the film. The rest of the cast are all good, although Susan Sarandon is underused.

Morally, Enchanted seems to have a two-fold message. First, romance is important. Robert’s relationship with his girlfriend Nancy (Idina Menzel) is in difficulty because he isn’t doing anything romantic to keep it alive. Furthermore, because he has previously been unlucky in love, Robert inflicts his bitterness on Morgan by buying her books about great women in history like Margaret Thatcher instead of the fairy stories she wants (of which he disapproves). Over the course of the film, he learns from Giselle that dreams can come true and it is possible to have a “happily ever after”.

Secondly, this is about having realistic expectations from a relationship. Giselle learns from Robert that it might actually be a good idea to get to know Edward before committing to marry him. She also learns that it’s no good to continually have one’s head in the clouds, and that real life can be hard. These dual themes are best summed up in a scene where two peripheral characters who had been going to divorce decide not to after encountering Giselle. There is no point missing out on the good times just because there are some tough times.

On a technical level, the special effects are good, including the CG animals. Alan Menken’s music and songs are good too, recalling his heyday in the early 1990’s animated Disney movies. Interestingly, upon arrival in New York, the film cleverly and seamlessly switches from standard screen size (1:85:1 aspect ratio) to widescreen (2:35:1 aspect ratio).

Only at the finale does the film come somewhat unstuck as a couple of key characters – including Edward – are sidelined. It could also be argued that the inevitably sugary happy ending was perhaps a bit too saccharine, but hey – it’s Disney, and we’re all entitled to a bit of sappiness, especially at Christmas.

No masterpiece then, but far more satisfying than The Golden Compass. Do your children a favour and take them to see this instead – not so much because The Golden Compass is spiritually abhorrent but because Enchanted is a much better film.

Simon Dillon, December 2007.

Whether Once warrants being seen more than once remains to be seen, but based on one viewing, I was quite impressed. It’s the kind of film where you leave the cinema thinking it wasn’t anything particularly special, but then can’t stop thinking about it and realise that perhaps it was a little bit special after all.

Essentially, it’s a modern-day musical about an Irish busker and a Czech immigrant who meet by chance and are immediately drawn together through a mutual love of music. As a result, over the following week they write, rehearse and record songs that provide the commentary on their relationship. We find out very little about these two characters, not even their names (they are listed in the credits simply as “Guy” and “Girl”). However, it is clear they are both down on their luck as a result of previous relationships. Obviously in a Hollywood production, true love would conquer all, and they would go on to become a huge singing/songwriting success.

But Once is a micro-budget Irish film, and as such writer/director John Carnard’s strength is his refusal to tie up loose ends in a neat bundle. The deliberately rough-around-the-edges screenplay has the ebb and flow of real life and it studiously avoids clichés not just around the unrequited love story but also its peripheral themes (such as immigration). Marketa Irglova and Glen Hansard are both superb as Girl and Guy respectively, and the supporting cast do very well in their small roles, especially Bill Hodnet as Guy’s warm-hearted Dad. In fact, throughout the duration of this small gem, the audience isn’t introduced to even one unpleasant character – even the drug addict who tries to steal Guy’s busking money.

There are a few funny bits; especially near the beginning where Girl trails after Guy with her broken hoover trying to get him to fix it (she discovers he has a job at his Dad’s hoover repair shop). However, the key moments in the film are of course the songs, which are generally angst-ridden indie folk ballads. But even if that kind of music isn’t your scene, don’t be put off. One of the film’s joys is watching the progression of the music – from Guy roughly bellowing out numbers on a street corner using his falling-to-pieces guitar, to the slick recording in the studios near the end. The musically inclined will obviously appreciate this more than others, but even if you have no musical ability whatsoever, the process will capture your interest because the plight of the protagonists is one of universal resonance.

Its short – under 90 minutes – and certainly seems simple, but it gets under the skin in a Brief Encounter kind of way, and apart from some strong language is a joy for the eye and ear. In short, it’s a lovely little film and well worth a look. By the way, apologies for the lateness of this review since this film came out over a month ago.

Simon Dillon, December 2007.

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.

High School Musical - (3 stars) this is an absolute phenomenon with the kids, and I was desperate to find out why I was teaching teenagers who knew all the lyrics and dances inside and out. The answer is - Disney knows its market! A light tale about two misfits (pretty ones, of course) coming together through singing and dancing, and bringing everyone along with them through, you know, “being themselves” (what else in a Disney movie?). It’s fun enough, with some very good musical set-pieces (’Get your head in the game’ being my favourite), and if you’re below the age of 15 (and probably more for the girls), perfect, harmless entertainment.

Enron - The Smartest Guys in the Room - (3 stars) Greed, greed, greed. That’s what brought Enron down, and it’s so clear from this film. This documentary goes back over some of the key players in the Enron scandal, what they got up to and why, and is pretty interesting. There are parts that engage a lot more than others, such as listening to the recordings of Enron employees laughing at the misfortunes of the inhabitants of the West Coast of the US - absolutely repulsive, and a very effective piece of documentary film-making. Less manipulative than Michael Moore, and possibly for that reason less consistently engaging.

An Inconvenient Truth - (4 stars) Al Gore shows you his power-point presentation on the environment and climate change and forces you to think and act. As a family we are already quite enthusiastic about living ethically, doing our bit to look after the world that God made and so on, and this film just confirms that everyone needs to be doing this! The bit that kids at school apparently responded to was polar bears drowning in their own local environment due to melting ice caps; there are so many shocking facts, stats and images here that it seems unlikely that one could watch this movie and not try to do more for the environment. It’s not a perfect film - some of the inserts about Gore himself add very little - but it’s the most accessible education on global warming that you could get in under 2 hours. Oh, and the major worry about Gore creating a massive carbon footprint by going round the world showing his presentation is answered in the trivia section here.

The Wolf Man - (3 stars) Universal horror, detailing the werewolf myth, linking it to gypsy curses and including all the well-known moon-related tales. Lon Chaney plays the man under the make-up, which is brilliant, and the lighting and mood of the piece is suitably dark, but the film-making style always detracts from actual scariness in these films.

Right At Your Door - (3 stars) A dirty bomb is released in LA. Man gets home just in time, wife arrives back some time later to find herself locked out by him as the radio has advised everybody to keep doors and windows shut and not let anyone in or out. A tense period follows as both parties try to work out what to do and how they might get help in a terror situation. A good premise for a movie, with a nice thorny moral question at the centre, but the movie slows considerably in the middle and doesn’t quite have the courage of its convictions. A fair amount of swearing.

At the start of this review, let me just say that I am an expert neither on Jane Austen (I’ve never actually read Pride and Prejudice, but I have read Emma and Northanger Abbey, which I very much enjoyed) nor Bollywood, having only seen 3 or 4 films that you could put into this category. This film, which transposes the plot of P&P to an Indian (well, international) setting and adds songs and lots of colour, is fairly successful with the plot but less so, to my mind, with the Bollywood genre.

Lalita (played by Aishwarya Rai, one of Bollywood’s biggest stars) is the 2nd of four daughters in the Bakshi family, and knows what she wants in a husband. Hang on… is there anyone who doesn’t know the plot of this film? The BBC version was so feted, and then there’s been another film recently, I feel it’s a bit pointless explaining what happens. Anyway, the whole arranged-marriage thing works very well in the Indian setting, as it’s still a feature of the culture, and the issue is regularly highlighted in the very few Bollywood movies I’ve seen - with the general consensus being that one aims for love in a marriage, of course. Darcy is an American businessman with no knowledge of any culture outside the States - he is, of course, a cad and a bounder (but then not really!), but according to Heidi not quite as attractive as he should be for this role. The character of Mrs Bakshi is very much seared onto your brain after watching the film - continually trying to maneuver her daughters into marriages that benefit her ambitions - and her husband’s understated, but equally strong, love for his children is lovely to watch too. And the 4 daughters are fun to watch, and look like a family. Oh, and special mention should go to Nitin Ganatra as Mr Kohli - the rich Indian working and living in America who Mrs Bakshi sees as a perfect match for Lalita - who steals every scene he’s in.

While the Indian setting is a good one in which to update the story (because, actually, not much updating work needs doing - e.g. the dances featured in the book, where key plot events occur, can be used here just as effectively, as people dance together regularly in Bollywood films), what we felt didn’t work so well was mixing the Indian setting with the demands of English-speaking audiences. English lyrics in Bollywood songs just sounded wrong to us - they’re fine when you read them as subtitles on the screen, and they don’t need to rhyme. In fact, I’ve said before that I find them rather beautiful on the whole, as to me they read like the Psalms or Song of Songs. But forcing an English rhyme scheme onto an Indian musical structure made the lyrics sound, well, wet and lame. I understand that Gurinda Chadha, the director, wanted to movie to have as wide an appeal as possible, and that after the success of Bend It Like Beckham, she wanted to expose as wide an audience as she could to Bollywood movie-making, and that is to be applauded - there is a moral, visual and aural purity about the Indian films we’ve seen so far that makes them absolutely delightful to watch, and more people should know that! But I think that in this instance, using English actually weakened the Indian-culture elements of the film, and that is a real shame - especially as the movie has a lot to say about opening one’s eyes to other cultures and all they have to offer.

So lots of fun, lots of colour and a well-played central romance, but if you want a really good introduction to Bollywood, try Kuch Kuch Hota Hai or Lagaan - both fantastic examples of the genre.

Based on the hit Broadway musical, which was itself based on John Waters’ 1988 film, Hairspray is an unexpectedly delightful musical comedy set in Maryland during the pop heyday of the early 1960s. Overweight Tracy Turnblad dreams of dancing on local TV station’s pop music programme, The Corny Collins Show, and wants to audition. Her equally overweight shut-in mother discourages this, as she fears her daughter’s feelings will be hurt, but her eccentric joke-shop owner father encourages her to go for it. After learning some dance moves from black students she ends up in school detention with, Tracy succeeds in getting on the show, largely due to presenter Corny Collins’s progressive views on wanting to integrate black and white people on the programme. But icy producer Velma von Tussle wants to keep the show predominately white, with a “Negro day” every so often for Rhythm and Blues music. She also takes a dislike to Tracy whom she fears will steal the “Miss Teenage Hairspray” crown from her bitchy daughter, Amber.

This is as much an interesting look at a footnote in US civil rights history as a feel good celebration of the innocence and fun of a bygone pop era. It’s proof that one doesn’t have to make a preachy heavy drama to tackle important issues such as institutionalised racism. I was never a huge fan of the John Waters original, but this is a surprisingly entertaining musical reinvention. Leslie Dixon’s witty screenplay zips along at a tremendous pace, and director Adam Shankman choreographs the fine musical numbers with flair, even opening with a kind of West Side Story homage.

It’s become a tradition for the role of Tracy’s mother to be portrayed by a man in drag, and here John Travolta gamely does his best to disturbing and hilarious effect. He isn’t as convincing as, say, Dustin Hoffman in Tootsie, but given how hard it is to pull off such a role, due credit must be given. In the lead role, Tracy’s is an absolute delight, charming and innocent, yet ultimately rising above her naivety to take part in a civil rights rally that ends in a clash with police. She also finds romance in the form of Corny Collins show regular Link (Zac Efron), an up and coming star who agrees with her views on integration but is reluctant to voice them for fear of Velma (a wonderfully nasty Michelle Pfeiffer) ruining his career.

Elsewhere, James Marsden is excellent as Corny Collins, taking the role beyond obligatory cheesy grins and imbuing the character with a hefty dose of moral fortitude. Queen Latifah exudes patient righteous indignation as Motormouth Maybelle, the presenter of “Negro Day. Taylor Parks has a small but pivotal role as her daughter Little Inez, Amanda Bynes is wonderful as Tracy’s best friend Penny, and Elijah Kelley is equally winning as the black boy she falls in love with her a cute subplot. Finally, the always brilliant Christopher Walken steals the show as Tracy’s amusingly eccentric father, providing many of the films best jokes. Speaking of jokes, some of them are a little rude, and might upset certain Christian audiences I know. They will also be annoyed by Alison Janney’s unfortunate and extremely irritating portrayal of Penny’s mother as a racist loony, Bible-bashing Christian.

But such nits aside, this is a must-see for fans of the genre, and is deserves to be seen far more than most of the dross currently clogging up multiplexes. A dead cert for cult status, see it first, before everyone rediscovers it later.

Simon Dillon, July 2007.

Over a year ago we rented a movie called ‘Lagaan’, for no reason other than we were curious about Indian cinema, had seen its name/the DVD fairly well-advertised, read a couple of reviews and thought it would be interesting. Little did we know it would spark off a whole new world of cinema for us. We might be slow on the uptake on this, or just weird for getting into it at all, not being in the slightest bit Indian ourselves, but we’re coming to love these movies as we watch more.

So, for those readers for whom Bollywood means very little, here are the basics: Indian films, mostly in Hindi but with smatterings of English, with lavish colours, big musical numbers, cliched plots, very long running times, intermissions, stereotyped characters, often poetic-looking subtitles (but we’re never sure how much that’s down to translation or not - I love this aspect, especially during the songs, because the English translations don’t rhyme, so they remind me of reading Psalms or Song of Songs, particularly the love songs, naturally). I suppose the closest crossover reference points recently have been Bride & Prejudice and Monsoon Wedding, only the latter of which we’ve seen, but it was a watered down version of the real thing. I will VERY swiftly review the 3 movies we’ve seen so far, and do all subsequent ones properly…

Lagaan (Tax): down-trodden villagers in the Raj days rebel against local British cads who are imposing stringent taxes on them by challenging the Brits to a game of cricket - the Indian underdogs must gather a very inexperienced team, train and win to keep their livelihoods, basically. Wonderful, brilliant, really glad this was the first one we saw. Very charismatic leading man in Aamir Khan, and genuine tension at the end.

Kuch Kuch Hota Hai (Something’s happened to my heart): Rahul and Anjali are best friends at college, but she is a tomboy and he doesn’t realise she loves him. Rahul gets married to pretty girl Tina who bears him a daughter but dies in childbirth - they name the girl Anjali, and she, 8 years later, becomes determined to reunite her father with the love of his former life. Again, 3 great leads, especially Shahrukh Khan as idiotic charmer Rahul, but the 2 women are also very good in their roles. It looks dated at first, but that’s because A) it was released in 1998 and B) it’s to do with events taking place at the end of the 80s, at least in the first half.

Dil to Pagal Hai (The Heart is Crazy): same actor, same character name, more or less the same character. Khan is this time a theatre director whose leading dancer (who’s in love with him) breaks her heel, and he must search for a replacement. He finds the perfect girl, and they begin to fall in love, even though she is engaged to her childhood sweetheart. Jealousy and dancing abound, in a slightly weaker film, and yet the great numbers are GREAT. Khan seems to play the same character each time, but is still worth watching.

We love these films cos they’re fun, lively, predictable, amusing, innocent, gorgeous-looking, tuneful and, above all, different to what we normally watch.