THE RED TURTLE

“…a film with a big heart and a profound message…”

Wayward Wolf.

Whilst admittedly not my genre of choice, when one considers the vast number of hours it must surely have taken to piece together, The Red Turtle, it is a truly staggering achievement. Of course, the building blocks of this particular animation are probably no different to those employed in any number of other animations of its type, but for those of us that rarely stray into this territory, it’s a rare opportunity to ponder and marvel at such things.

Michael Dudok de Wit’s tale opens with a man in a desperate fight for his life, floundering among the storm waves, without recourse to any form of sea-faring vessel. Luckily the sea eventually deposits him, weary but still alive, on the shore of a remote tropical island from which he must attempt to escape if he is ever to return to ‘civilisation’ again.

This is however easier said than done, with each of his numerous attempts frustrated time and again by the meddling exploits of a giant red turtle. Every one of the man’s crudely assembled log rafts, once afloat, is quickly battered into pieces by the powerful ‘butting’ action of this crimson watery thwarter – a sort of vengeful turtle wrecking ball, if you will.

Try as he might to escape, it’s almost as though fate has other plans for our man.

Spotting the turtle on land one day, and beside himself with rage, the man seizes his opportunity, summoning all of his strength to flip the red menace onto its back, leaving it there to perish in the merciless rays of the tropical sun.

Pangs of remorse, however, begin to overcome him, and he attempts unsuccessfully to reverse his actions.

Much grief and shame is duly felt, but with the turtle’s passing comes a remarkable and unexpected opportunity for genuine fulfilment in the man’s life.

Michael Dudok de Wit’s charming piece places us all in the initially enviable scenario of paradise found, though quickly revealing the harsh realities of survival, not to mention the full force of mother nature’s unpredictability.

Whilst The Red Turtle is visually stunning and impressive in its simplicity, it is however so much more than an expertly-honed, visually sumptuous animation, it’s a film with a big heart and a profound message through its exploration of the cycle and core components of our lives: survival, freedom, love, loss, loneliness, and of course the unavoidable inevitability of death.

Almost entirely bereft of dialogue throughout – bar a few guttural grunts and squeaks of joy – the film’s direction offers the space and opportunity for our minds to contemplate and wander. Much emphasis is therefore placed upon Laurent Perez Del Mar’s emotive soundtrack, which, through its Morricone-esque use of soaring soprano lines, compliments the exquisite animation perfectly.

It’s evident that much love and attention – not to mention ‘man-hours’ – have been lavished upon The Red Turtle, resulting in a wonderfully poignant and truly rewarding film.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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THE BEGUILED

“Elle Fanning… delights with a performance of scheming flirtatiousness. Given the circumstances, it’s a catalyst for disaster.”

Wayward Wolf.

 

Director Sofia Coppola’s The Beguiled is a simple tale based upon Thomas Cullinan’s novel, set during the American Civil War, deep in the Confederate state of Virginia.

A young girl, Amy (Oona Laurence), is out picking mushrooms in the forest when she stumbles upon a fallen Union soldier, Corporal McBurney (Colin Farrell). Wounded by a gun shot to his leg, he is fast bleeding to death. The kindhearted Amy helps him to a ladies’ seminary where he can receive treatment and convalesce.

This seminary is also Amy’s home which she shares with four other young girls of varying ages, all of whom are tutored by their live-in teachers, Miss Martha (Nicole Kidman), and her assistant Edwina (Kirsten Dunst).

Whilst the unremitting sound of gun shots rumbles away somewhere in the distance, Miss Martha and Edwina do their best to ensure that some semblance of civilised normality is maintained at this well-to-do school, priding themselves upon producing well-mannered, well-educated young southern ladies.

Being also a school of deep-rooted Christian values presents Miss Martha with something of a dilemma. Should they now turn the Corporal in to the Confederate forces, or wait at least until he is fully recovered from his injuries?

The decision is made, but given the potentially problematic nature of this predicament, it could very easily be one that they will all live to regret.

McBurney’s wartime allegiances of course contravene the ‘values’ expected of a good Confederate household, but it’s simply his manly presence here that is unquestionably the cause of the competitiveness, jealousy and ultimately betrayal that soon develops between the ladies of the house.

It doesn’t help that McBurney in some ways encourages the situation. Fully aware that he is the only, and therefore Alpha male here, he begins to revel in his increasingly powerful status.

The Beguiled is a slow-burning yet expertly-paced affair, not to mention a fascinatingly taut experience from start to finish. A film of tightly bound layers poised to unravel spectacularly at any moment.

Developing moral and sexual tensions simmer away, guards are gradually lowered, alcohol flows, and it’s only a matter of time before lines are crossed and the pot well and truly boils over.

Farrell is excellent portraying a man mindful to remain sufficiently polite and charming in the face of the welcome steady encroachment of female interest – all the while, wary that he may still be turned in to the authorities at any moment.

Nicole Kidman’s portrayal of Miss Martha is one of authoritative decorum, whilst Kirsten Dunst produces a nuanced performance of repressed longing. Elle Fanning (Alicia), on the other hand, delights with a performance of scheming flirtatiousness. Given the circumstances, it’s a catalyst for disaster.

Philippe Le Sourd’s cinematography is refreshingly conservative in its execution, but no less beautiful for this. An abundance of static shots and an almost ethereal use of light and delicate textures captures wonderfully the very essence of the hot and sticky natural beauty of the southern location.

Sofia Coppola’s The Beguiled is darkly humorous on occasion, thoroughly entertaining and ever so seductive – almost beguiling one might say.

 

 

 

 

IT COMES AT NIGHT

“Unafraid to be ambiguous, and as open-ended as it is disturbing, It Comes at Night is a highly impressive piece…”

Wayward Wolf.

 

Each member of a family, wearing a gas mask and protective gloves, carry their grandfather a short way into the woods.

Multiple sores are strewn across his elderly face and body. This, together with a grey complexion and laboured breathing, is a sure indication that he is a very sick man and not long for this world.

One reluctant shot to his head, and the lowering of his body into a ready-prepared hole in the ground, is followed by a hurried cremation of sorts.

This is very much the way of things. An act of both mercy and self-preservation, for a contagious plague-like sickness has stricken mankind. Or so it would seem.

But we are observing only a rather claustrophobic microcosm of humanity here, with no real wider frame of reference or comparison. Who knows what’s already happened,  what’s really going on, and more importantly, what’s still to come?

This is the quandary facing Paul (Joel Edgerton), Sarah (Carmen Ejogo) and their son, Travis (Kelvin Harrison Jr.), a tight-knit family unit ensconced in their now boarded-up wooden family house, deep within a forest – doing their best to ride this whole thing out.

With Paul enforcing a set of strict rules with regard to what can and can’t be done given the extraordinary circumstances in hand, the three of them, along with their pet dog, Stanley, do their best to live some kind of structured life, rich in routine and consistency.

All of this, however, is put to the test one night when an armed intruder attempts to enter their secured home. Is this, as the intruder insists, the desperate action of a man innocently scavenging for supplies for his beleaguered family, from what would appear to be an abandoned building? Or, the uninvited arrival of something far more calculated and altogether more sinister?

More importantly, should Paul and his family take pity on this uninvited guest and offer him and his young family sanctum in their time of need?

A huge dilemma when so much is at a stake.

Refreshingly minimal in its approach, It Comes at Night is the work of director Trey Edward Shults, based upon his own screenplay. It’s very much a psychological horror / thriller bringing to mind 2015’s The Witch as well as The Blair Witch franchise, both stylistically speaking, and through its unnerving ability to generate a true sense of confused fear and foreboding.

Shults successfully manages to blur the line here between reality and imagination, raising significant confusion and doubt as to the true nature of whatever malevolent force is at work, and indeed whether this is all in fact nothing but a heightened sense of paranoia within the minds of Paul and his family, facing, as they do, an unexplainable, encroaching external menace from which they increasingly attempt to isolate and protect themselves.

Unafraid to be ambiguous, and as open-ended as it is disturbing, It Comes at Night is a highly impressive piece that provokes serious questions of trust and resolve, and one that will undoubtedly feed your fears of the unknown.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BABY DRIVER

“Edgar Wright seeks to deliver a film that’s hip, cool, and intense, with plenty of tongue-in-cheek comedic overtones.”

Wayward Wolf.

Observing Baby (Ansel Elgort) tapping, nodding and air-drumming his way through life is in some ways like staring in a mirror. Granted, I certainly can’t do the quiff these days, and I’m probably double the lad’s age and should know better, but still to this day I find it physically almost impossible to rein in an array of rhythmic beats and drum-fills that I can’t help but perform on desks and dashboards – or any hard surfaces for that matter – when listening to my music of choice – much to the chagrin of those around me, I suspect.

Whilst I don’t imagine I was the primary influence for director Edgar Wright’s  entertaining Baby Driver, the film’s hero is similarly afflicted by such sonically-triggered ‘ticks’. With earphones permanently lodged in earholes, he taps and struts his way through each passing day, invigorated by his own diverse musical soundtrack of life.

Having been in a car accident as a child, and having lost both of his parents as a result, Baby’s decision to be ‘plugged-in’ permanently to his collection of i-Pods, is as much for medical reasons as anything else. An attempt to drown out the annoying tinnitus that has since plagued him.

Indebted financially to a rather sinister gang boss, Doc (Kevin Spacey), Baby has been forced to drive getaway cars for him on a variety of bank heists. His skills behind the wheel are something to behold, and whilst Doc insists on changing the lineup for each job that he masterminds, the one constant every time is his driver, Baby.

Encouraged to do so by his deaf and crippled foster father, and with a newly-found sweetheart on the scene – Debora (Lily James) – Baby is determined to finally distance himself from this life of crime that he so reluctantly leads, but even once his debt to Doc has been repaid in full, it’s clear that his overlord is not willing to let him walk away that easily.

Drastic situations then, call for drastic measures…

As mentioned previously, Baby Driver is very definitely an entertaining piece. Edgar Wright seeks to deliver a film that’s hip, cool, and intense, with plenty of tongue-in-cheek comedic overtones. All of this he achieves, to an extent, through his use of a number of sweetly choreographed, intelligently-shot high-octane car chases and mass shoot-outs, not to mention a sharp and witty script to accompany. This is after all a director that knows comedy, both through his previous film work, and more historically having been involved with the show that spawned the marvellous Bobby Chariot – namely Alexei Sayle’s Merry-Go-Round – and the critically-acclaimed, and quite frankly tremendous, Spaced.

As for the casting, Baby Driver hits the mark. Elgort is great as something of a brooding James Dean-esque hero, Spacey is suitably menacing as the gang boss, whilst Jamie Foxx, Jon Bernthal and Jon Hamm each put in convincing turns as an assortment of grizzled, shotgun-wielding ne’er-do-wells.

If there are criticisms to be made, it’s perhaps noticeable that Baby Driver does have a tendency to flag a little in its second half, owing to its propensity for over-indulgence in fairly unnecessary dialogue. This comes at the expense of momentum, of which there is great abundance until that point. Not only this, but the film’s concluding chapter does feel a little forced and ill-thought-out; ultimately therefore a tad unconvincing.

In the grand scheme of things though, these are minor complaints, and shouldn’t detract too much from a film whose ability to entertain and thrill far outweighs any negatives we may choose to throw at it.

Whilst maybe not of the same vintage as some of his previous outings – think Shaun of The Dead, Hot Fuzz, or even World’s End for that matter – Edgar Wright’s Baby Driver is however great fun, and another worthy feather in the cap for a director who continues to build up a quality and consistently enjoyable body of work.

Long may it continue.

 

ALONE IN BERLIN

“…director Vincent Perez – resisting the temptation to pad things out with dubious filler or the concoction of unnecessarily distracting back stories…”

Wayward Wolf.

The death of their only son in combat has driven a German couple to risk their own lives in defiance of the Führer himself.

Provoked by a combination of deep-set grief and simmering resentment, Otto Quangel (Brendan Gleeson), is determined to make a stand against what he perceives to be an unjust, brutal Nazi regime. His wife, Anna (Emma Thompson), refuses to allow Otto to do such a thing alone, and by association, therefore becomes the accomplice to his plans.

Painstakingly Otto begins the laborious task of disguising his handwriting in order to create almost 290 cards, each of which is emblazoned with a strong anti-authoritarian message of defiance, something he refers to as “Freie Presse” (free press). Each of these he then deposits in strategic public locations around the city of Berlin, hopeful that his anarchic messages will incite some form of radical response from a down-trodden German public.

No matter their impact on the psyche of the German people, it transpires that all but eighteen of these cards will ultimately be turned in to the authorities by a public too frightened not to do so.

Predictably, Otto and Anna’s actions soon prompt something of a manhunt in the City.

Brendan Gleeson and particularly Emma Thompson put in fine performances as a couple riddled with sorrow and driven to the point where they no longer have anything to lose, but it is arguably Daniel Brühl’s performance as the rather weasel-ish police detective, Escherich, that steals the limelight here. His persual of “the threat” posed by Otto and Anna becomes something of an obsession. Frequently out-thought or wrong-footed in his endeavours, he is willing to betray anyone, and do literally anything to solve a case which threatens to get away from him; particularly once the SS get involved, ramping up the pressure to close the net on the elusive pair of renegades.

Although nicely shot and well-paced, Alone in Berlin is a fairly straight forward premise, and judged on such criteria, there’s perhaps not enough to really make it stand out from an historically long and illustrious back catalogue of Second World War-themed film-making. That said, Alexandre Desplat’s soundtrack is memorable and worthy of mention. Suitably evocative, it successfully conjures up a bleak mood of despair with its refreshingly traditional use of  both recurring themes and motifs, embellishing the film significantly and substantially.

On balance, Alone in Berlin delivers well. Both engaging and suspenseful, one can put this down to a number of factors, but primarily owing to director Vincent Perez resisting the temptation to pad things out with dubious filler or the concoction of unnecessarily distracting back stories, allowing instead a refreshingly concise and to-the-point retelling of Otto and Anna’s fraught, daring and ultimately fool-hardy act of resistance against a wicked ideology.

Well worth a watch.