The Greatest Trick

Hey look, I’m writing a review! Of a film! On my own film review site! (Just in case it totally dies on me, the letter ‘G’ on my keyboard is behaving very erratically, so there might be some impromptu spelling mistakes that I fail to correct. I apologise in advance)

Miles (Paul Giamatti) and Jack (Thomas Haden Church) are middle-aged, washed up wine fanatics on a trip through California’s wine region, in the week leading up to Jack’s wedding. Miles, the divorced, introspective, failing-writer-turned-teacher, just wants to taste some good wine, play some golf and enjoy the week with his friend. Jack, the bit-part actor whose best years are behind him, is determined to have some fun (read: sex) before tying the knot - and embarks on some very ill-advised romantic entanglements that his friend has to then extricate him from. The film follows them through their week, as they spend time together and apart, and evokes charm, disbelief, humour and irritation at these characters in more or less equal measure.

Giamatti and Church do an excellent job, though it really is Giamatti’s film - thankfully, as he is the more sympathetic character to follow! In fact, it’s very difficult for me to comment on anything apart from the actual characters and their story - I don’t remember the technical / directorial aspects of the film so much, as I was caught up with being annoyed with both of them! I suppose that means the director (Alexander Payne, who also wrote the screenplay) did a good job of keeping me in the story.

And here I will digress and present the reader with a spiritual quandary that I found myself in at the end of the movie; I experienced the same thing while watching Last King of Scotland, just a few nights earlier, so maybe God’s on my case… Anyway - and here I will allude heavily to the endings of both films, so look away if you don’t want them spoiled - they both presented the viewer with characters who mess up in a major way, show little to no remorse for their dumb and dangerous actions, and yet the story offers them redemption, and they take it. In LKoS, Nick Garrigan (James McAvoy), who has most definitely sinned against Idi Amin (I’ll leave the details of that out for now), is rescued from his horrific torture by a fellow doctor who dies to give him time to leave the country; in Sideways Jack’s pre-marital infidelities are flagrant and ridiculous, and get him beaten up and forced into the first act of deception in his new marriage before it’s even started. Neither of these characters show any true remorse for what they have done, but are given a way out of their mess through the sacrifices offered to them by others. Now it’s totally clear when put that way, that they could stand in for the sinner before accepting Christ - he gave himself before we had any idea of our need for salvation. And yet, something in me is annoyed and unhappy about the fact that they are redeemed (not just offered redemption) when no repentance has taken place - and sadly there is nothing in the films that tells us that from this point on they are going to be changed characters. Is this harsh on my part? Am I being legalistic and pharisaical in my lack of grace for these characters? Or is fair and true to Christian belief to expect a change in behaviour / attitude before someone is fully saved?

Comments welcome (I think!)…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Simon Dillon, February 2009.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Simon Dillon, February 2009.

It’s rather odd to have watched two brainwashing films in one week - you might watch two war films, or two comedies, but two movies about brainwashing? That’s weird. Perhaps there’s someone secretly manipulating our Tesco DVD Rental list, with some sinister purpose that we haven’t yet worked out. Perhaps it’s a warning to be on our guard for people saying odd phrases - just in case we start losing bits of our memories…

Anyway, this Woody Allen effort, set in 1940, centres on a pair of insurance investigators, played by Allen himself (as usual - the romantic lead!) and Helen Hunt, who become unwittingly involved with a jewel thief after a visit to a hypnotism show one night. Most of the comedy, which isn’t really all that much to be honest, comes from the interplay between the two leads, who hate each other with a venom they continually express in the most expressive terms, in an attempt to pay homage to classic male-female sparring movies, such as His Girl Friday or Bringing Up Baby (hmm, both with Cary Grant - Allen doesn’t even come close to being close).

The story is watchable enough, but there is no mystery for the audience, and it has a very irritatingly repetitive jazz score - the Allen influence again. Frankly I found Hunt annoying, the eventual romance of the piece unconvincing, and both the leads miscast really. If Allen’s ego allowed him to direct someone else for once, he might start making a few half-decent movies (I’m no expert, but in recent years I don’t recall any of his movies lighting up either box offices or reviews pages). There’s better stuff out there, but at least it wasn’t as repulsive as Allen’s earlier Deconstructing Harry. Avoid that at all costs.

Last night, I fulfilled a lifelong desire to see David Lean’s 1965 romantic masterpiece Doctor Zhivago on a big screen. This truly magnificent film has been reissued in a stunning new print and before I say anything else, I urge anyone who gets the chance to make a point of seeing this limited re-release at the cinema.

For those unfamiliar with the plot, Doctor Zhivago is an adaptation of Boris Pasternak’s controversial novel set before, during and after the Russian revolution. Yuri Zhivago (Omar Sharif) is an orphan adopted by a rich family in Moscow. He writes poetry, but is a doctor by profession. He marries Tonya (Geraldine Chaplin), the daughter of his adopted parents, but once the turmoil of revolution plunges the nation into chaos, he meets the mysterious, beautiful Lara (Julie Christie), and they soon fall in love.

This is one of those films that there really ought to be a law against watching on television. Cinemas were invented for experiences like this and regardless of how many surround sound/big television screen gimmicks on offer, there is nothing to beat sitting in a darkened cinema and being totally absorbed in the epic Siberian landscapes or the meticulously recreated pre-revolutionary Moscow (an astonishing set constructed in an era long before CGI provided shortcuts in epic filmmaking).

But it isn’t just the huge epic scenes that command greater attention on a big screen. The details of the brilliant performances are enhanced by added size. Omar Sharif’s melancholy, slightly detached air expertly conveys the turmoil of a character who is an observer of life, but also a deeply humane, passionate man desperately trying to survive intolerable times. The supporting roles are equally excellent. Alec Guinness is brilliant as ever as Yuri’s half brother Yevgraf, who narrates the story. Ralph Richardson and Siobahn McKenna are both very good as Yuri’s adoptive parents. Tom Courtenay plays committed but largely unsympathetic revolutionary Pasha superbly. Elsewhere, Geraldine Chaplin (Charlie Chaplin’s daughter) is terrific as perfect wife Tonya, whose dignity and goodness ensures that audiences share Zhivago’s anguish at being in love with two women. Rod Steiger’s wonderfully odious Komarovsky is also hugely memorable.

But the film really belongs to Julie Christie, whose outstanding performance as Lara remains the highlight of her career. Throughout her journey from abused teenager to war nurse, revolutionary wife, and finally Yuri’s lover, she remains always sympathetic yet hauntingly enigmatic. Her final exchanges of dialogue with Yuri (“Wouldn’t it have been lovely if we’d met before?”) are among the most brilliantly understated and heartbreaking in cinema history, thanks to Robert Bolt’s superb screenplay.

Speaking of the screenplay, Bolt and Lean insisted on not making Zhivago a political story, which proved a very wise choice. It is, above all, a human story. There is no editorialising, and the cruel, harrowing events depicted throughout speak for themselves, since they are caused by foolish and inhumane authoritarian ideologies (whether left or right wing).

On a technical level, everything from the crisp editing to the innovative use of sound, visual effects, art direction and breathtaking cinematography remains absolutely inspired. Maurice Jarre’s exceptional Oscar winning music score is the icing on the cake. The instantly recognisable “Lara theme” in particular, often played on the balalaika, is as stirring as ever. Only the occasional 1960’s hairdo among female characters dates the film.

I first saw Doctor Zhivago on television when I was about eight and two things in particular made a profound and lasting impression. First and foremost, David Lean’s extraordinary vision completely blew me away. The sheer brilliance of the greatest British director of all time operating at the peak of his powers had me spellbound, and much of its unique imagery would haunt my consciousness for years to come – from the ice covered house surrounded by the sounds of howling wolves to the accidental massacre of children in the cornfields.

The second thing Doctor Zhivago did was present compelling characters that I came to feel sorry for even though they were committing adultery. Yuri ends up in the horrible position of being in love with two women. He loves his wife and family, but also loves Lara. To this day, its one of very few films where I can fully understand and sympathise with (if not condone) the affairs of the main characters, which makes the inevitable tragedy all the more compelling. As with all good tragedies, the audience knows it will end badly from the beginning (the film is one huge flashback). However, when I was eight, I had never seen a movie with a sad ending, and the devastating finale left me utterly emotionally drained. As the credits rolled, I vowed to watch every other film David Lean had directed.

Shortly afterwards I discovered Great Expectations, Brief Encounter, The Bridge on the River Kwai, Lawrence of Arabia, and the other David Lean greats, but I always maintained my soft spot for Doctor Zhivago – a proper old school romantic epic. Sadly, we’re unlikely to ever see its kind again, so I will conclude by reiterating my original exhortation and urge everyone in the strongest possible terms to go and see this film. Even if you’ve watched it on television countless times, seeing it at the cinema is like seeing it for the first time.

Simon Dillon, August 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.

Stardust, the seminal novel from fantasy author Neil Gaiman, is, in the author’s own words, a “fairy tale for adults”. Although certain elements have been watered down to keep this adaptation within the confines of a PG certificate, its still really not a film for children. The primary audience is fantasy obsessives (of which I am one), although those who are merely curious will be rewarded with an enjoyable romance, whilst being reminded of old favourites such as The Princess Bride and Terry Gilliam’s lighter films (especially his recent film The Brothers Grimm).

Young shop boy Tristan promises Victoria, the girl he thinks he loves, that he will bring back for her a fallen star from a magical realm that exists beyond a wall near their town. Once inside this parallel world, Tristan discovers this star is in fact a beautiful girl, Yvaine. He insists she accompanies him back to his world to show Victoria, but before long she begins to fall in love with him. However, Yvaine is in great danger. She is in possession of a jewel that Lord Stormhold’s three living son’s (Primus, Secundus and Septimus) vie for in order to claim his throne (the ghosts of their four dead brothers amusingly comment on the action from the afterlife like a Greek chorus). Even worse, three witches, led by the monumentally nasty Lamia, wish to capture Yvaine so they can cut out her heart and use it to regain their youth.

Performances are a mixed bag. Charlie Cox and Claire Danes are fine as Tristan and Yvaine respectively, but Sienna Miller is not the radiant Victoria I imagined from the book (a young hero might perhaps be prepared to brave the Boxing Day Next sale for her, but recover a fallen star? Nah, she’s not worth it). Jason Flemyng, Rupert Everett and Mark Strong are all good as Primus, Secundus and Septimus respectively. Michelle Pfeiffer’s Lamia is an absolutely superb villain, but Robert De-Niro’s camp sky pirate Captain Shakespeare is seriously misjudged. Peter O’Toole and Ricky Gervais have enjoyable but pointless cameos and Ian McKellen narrates the start and ending in appropriate fairy tale fashion.

Screenwriter Jane Goldman make a decent fist of adapting Gaiman’s unique brand of romantic wit, and director Matthew Vaughn’s foray into the fantasy genre is by and large a successful one. If nothing else, the Isle of Skye locations are used to tremendous, majestic effect (if occasionally enhanced by CGI). Oh, and for the pop music apologists out there (of which I am one) Take That’s song on the end credits is really good (a future number one perhaps).

From a spiritual perspective, the pros and cons of the romantic worldview are present and correct. As usual, the moral seems to be “follow your heart” – a flawed idea that goes against Biblical thinking (“The heart is deceitful above all things”, Jeremiah 17 verse 9). If I always followed my heart, I’d end up in serious trouble. However, it’s equally foolish to disregard one’s heart entirely (“Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart”, Psalm 37 verse 4). Such theological musings will probably not cross your mind when viewing Stardust, but nevertheless, in spite of some objectionable ideas, the irony of Tristan’s quest is as pertinent here as it was in the book. All in all, the lessons he learns are worth heeding.

Simon Dillon, October 2007.

Widely tipped for Oscar success, Atonement has been given rave reviews just about everywhere. However, after viewing it last night, I must confess a certain amount of disappointment. I don’t dispute the quality of the performances or direction, both are first rate. It’s the story itself I have issues with. Having never read Ian McEwan’s novel on which it is based, I can’t be sure if these narrative problems were inherited from the source material, but I can say that as a film, Atonement isn’t the masterpiece many are claiming.

The delicately balanced plot begins in a kind of pseudo-EM Forster environment, during the hot summer of 1935, thematically echoing novels like A Room with a View, Howard’s End or A Passage to India (and their respective film adaptations) with its beautiful, rich, sexually repressed characters going bonkers in the heat.

To say too much about the plot would be unfair, suffice to say it involves a tragic series of misunderstandings between thirteen year old Briony Tallis (Saoirse Ronan), her sister Cecilia (Keira Knightley) and Cecilia’s lover Robbie (James McAvoy). These eventually lead Briony to falsely accuse Robbie of a terrible crime he didn’t commit. The tragic repercussions affect all three for the rest of their lives.

The first act is absolutely superb. Not since the heyday of Merchant/Ivory has an atmosphere of erotic danger been so richly and vividly conjured. Bizarrely, I was also reminded of the eerie, dangerous magic of Peter Weir’s early films including Picnic at Hanging Rock. The second section, during World War II, felt more uneven, despite a superb five minute tracking shot through the horror of Dunkirk (perhaps intended as homage to the famous crane shot in Gone with the Wind where Scarlett walks into a sea of injured Confederate soldiers). At no point during the war sequences does the audience actually see any combat, but only its bloody aftermath. As an aside, this is a story that rightly celebrates the heroism of the nurses who dealt with such a profoundly traumatic deluge of horrific injuries.

This ought to be the film that silences the “Keira-Knightley-can’t-act” brigade (it has to be said, a largely female group). Why people ever thought she couldn’t act is beyond me. I’ve always found her engaging (even in the dreadful Pirates of the Caribbean sequels), and here she is superb. James McAvoy, in his third outstanding performance this year (after The Last King of Scotland and Becoming Jane), is equally good. But best of all is Saoirse Ronan, playing the thirteen year old Briony. If Atonement deserves an Oscar for anything, it’s for her amazing and frankly terrifyingly intense portrayal of a precocious, emotionally immature confused girl whose imagination gets the better of her. Romola Garai and Vanessa Redgrave are also good as older incarnations of the character, but neither matches Ronan’s astonishing screen presence.

Joe Wright directs with considerable flair, not only with the Dunkirk tracking shot mentioned earlier, but in the way he ensures the multiple points of view don’t become incomprehensible. Cinematographer Seamus McGarvy appropriately contrasts lush, opulent colours at the country house with steely, grim tones for the war. Editor Paul Tothill ensures things never get boring, and Dario Marianelli contributes an interesting music score that neatly ties into the typewriter sound effects that punctuate key points in the narrative.

Which brings me back to my overall objection to Atonement: the ending. To my mind, the final act, set in the present, is a let-down. Make no mistake, I am a complete sucker for melancholy and/or tragic romantic epics (Casablanca, Gone with the Wind, Brief Encounter, Doctor Zhivago, Far from the Madding Crowd and The Remains of the Day are all among my all-time favourites), but Atonement gets a bit too post-modern, and, without giving anything away, tries to have it both ways.

Other reasons some audiences will want to steer clear include sex scenes, graphic images of war injuries, and extremely (and I do mean extremely) strong language. Personally, I think there is a very strong case for saying the above material is contextually justified, but it will nevertheless put some people off.

In short, Atonement is superbly acted and directed, it’s never boring, and for the most part the plot engages. But the ending simply isn’t satisfying, and that is why, for all its undoubted merits, I am filing it under “overrated”.

Simon Dillon, September 2007.

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.

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.