Tag Archives: London

ISLE OF DOGS

Three and a half Star Rating

“…Anderson unsurprisingly adopts Hollywood’s de rigueur left-wing narrative, examining many of the issues that have become so highly relevant to the times in which we live…”  – Wayward Wolf.

Given that I live locally to it, viewing Wes Anderson’s Isle of Dogs on London’s own Isle of Dogs, E14, seemed like something of a ‘must do’. Unsurprisingly London’s purpose-built financial district overspill has notably fewer stray mutts running about, and its city-scape, whilst to some extent being overwhelmingly vulgar in its 1980’s faux-grandiose misadvised styling, is admittedly a lot more pleasing on the eye than the island wasteland setting of Anderson’s new stop-motion animated feature film.

An aesthetically-pleasing backdrop Anderson’s film may well lack in places, but there is something of an inherent beauty about this pain-stakingly detailed animation. Indeed, visually there is a huge amount to admire here.

Built upon a back story that tells of much historic conflict between cat and dog lovers, the city of Nagasaki is, according to its pro-cat leader, Mayor Ayasabi, now completely over-run with diseased dogs to such an extent that there is no other solution than to annex them all to a neighbouring waste island.

With this in mind the Mayor embarks upon a major mutt-move, and with it, what he hopes will be the complete eradication of the lingering threat of mutated human strains of both Dog Flu and Snout Fever.

As something of a symbolic gesture, Ayasabi decrees that the first dog to be re-located will be Spots, a handsome confident canine who just so happens to be the appointed guard dog of the Mayor’s own adopted son, Atari.

This, needless to say, does not go down too well with Atari who proceeds to somehow bravely fly a small one-seater plane across from the mainland to the waste island in a bid to rescue his beloved mutt.

Here he encounters one of the ragtag packs of hounds with whom he develops a strong and trusting bond, and together they set about attempting to locate Atari’s faithful best friend.

Meanwhile, back on the mainland, the pro-dog movement is painfully close to formulating an effective serum to combat these perilous doggy diseases, with a view to re-introducing the annexed dogs back into society. Yet it seems that the Mayor and his allies, with sinister motivations, will stop at nothing to shut them down.

But the Mayor hadn’t banked upon a small and very vocal minority of young Social Justice Warriors relentlessly pursuing him, determined to expose his crooked ways by lifting the blindfolds from the eyes of the hoodwinked masses and snapping them out of their docile subservience.

No matter which way you dress it up, Isle of Dogs, is a heavily political piece providing many layers of additional depth to this, literally, shaggy dog story.

And given that this is mainstream cinema, Anderson unsurprisingly adopts Hollywood’s de rigueur left-wing narrative, examining many of the issues that have become so highly relevant to the times in which we live.

Racial integration, environmental concerns, the prevalence of corruption within regimes, the blinkered dumbed-down nature of society, the growing political power and influence of the youth – particularly through technology, the championing of both the disadvantaged and minority groups, and through the film’s tightly-bound assortment of canine and human compadres, there is also a considerable tip of the hat towards the power of the collective, as they stand strong together against waves of unjust tyranny.

It’s all here.

There can perhaps be loose comparisons made – in tone at least – with Martin Rosen’s wonderful, oft-overlooked animated adaptation of the Richard Adams novel, Plague DogsVisually and stylistically-speaking, however, there are more obvious parallels to be made with Duke Johnson and Charlie Kaufman‘s more recent offering, Anomalisa

Anderson’s film, enhanced substantially by Alexandre Desplat’s strategically sympathetic score, positively oozes charm. And it’s thanks in no small part to an extremely fine set of vocal castings, with the likes of Bryan Cranston, Scarlett Johansson, Bill Murray and Jeff Goldblum – to name but a few – all breathing substantial life and vigour into this impressive animation. I really do lose count of the number of animated feature films that, for me at least, seem to fall so flat in this department.

A little morally and politically preachy Isle of Dogs may well be at times, but in fairness to the director, he never really labours the point, nor does he disappear in a cloud of self-generated ideological pretension.

Instead Anderson allows the film’s biggest assets – its considerable heart, comical interludes and jaw-dropping delicate beauty – to really shine through and be the star of the show.

An animated gem.

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FILM REVIEW: Bridget Jones’s Baby

Bridget Jones (Renée Zellweger) is having a baby, and there are two potential fathers. Bridget is getting older, and the world, to Bridget, appears to be getting younger.

What a ‘to-do!’

If I’m perfectly honest with myself, Bridget Jones’s Baby, the third film in the franchise, would rank somewhere near the bottom of a ‘must see films of the year’ list. There will doubtless be very few shocked by that particular revelation. It is after all a film that’s unapologetically geared towards a predominantly female audience of a certain age.

There’s nothing wrong with that. Such films serve as a good counterbalance to the plethora of God-awful, tiresome action films that relentlessly clog up cineplexes, nationwide. If the truth be told, I normally make a point of avoiding both.

There is however no escaping it, Bridget Jones’s Baby is a film that’s based upon the original book and concept of a female author. It’s directed by a woman and it’s packed solid with women’s ‘humour’ which, going by the cacophony of shrieks, howls and giggles emanating from all around about me in the particular screening that I attended, was blisteringly funny, to say the least.

Only… it wasn’t. Not to me anyway.

I’m being a little harsh, although I will say that the opening fifteen or twenty minutes, in which we are re-introduced to Bridget and her by now forty-something existence, and the struggles she faces to remain relevant within the hip TV and media circles in which she still operates, did make me want to bleach my eyes, ears and senses in general. A reaction no doubt to the onslaught of sickeningly slick, sassy one-liners, a largely toe-curling script, and some rather blatantly obvious visual gags.

However – and it’s a big however – once Bridget Jones’s Baby settles down, stops waving its arms around in that excruciating ‘Me, Me, Me!’ fashion, in an attempt to make its mark and get itself noticed – essentially, once it’s stopped being quite so nauseatingly Sex and The City, and become a little more Four Weddings meets Love Actually – a rather memorable little feel-good film threatens to emerge. And not a moment too soon.

It helps that a who’s who of British film, drama and television comedy accounts for the lion’s share of the film’s cast.

Gemma Jones and Jim Broadbent add weight (not literally), to proceedings, as Bridget’s parents, and a very special mention to the always superb, Emma Thompson, who once again defies the brevity of her bit-part role, to just about steal the show.

Colin Firth, rehashes his role as Mark, the tall, silent and slightly repressed English gent, whilst Patrick Dempsey plays Jack – Mark’s polar opposite – an emotionally open, slick American charmer, who has achieved considerable fame in championing the use of algorithms as a way to aid in the match-making process.

Sometimes together, and at other times independently, the pair do their best to vie for Bridget’s attentions through all manner of scrapes and tricky scenarios; each of them hopeful that Bridget’s baby-to-come, will ultimately prove to be theirs.

Bridget Jones’s Baby is a Londoner’s ‘spot the location’ dream, with various famous locations and landmarks springing up, doctored as they are – at times almost out of all recognition – for the benefit of the imaginations of the ‘Hollywood market’, but it doesn’t matter. It’s all good fun.

Perhaps more surprising than anything though is the fact that Bridget Jones’s Baby somehow manages to turn a decidedly shaky start – in my humble opinion, if no-one else’s – into a fully fledged, thoroughly convincing feel-good film that ultimately leaves an overwhelming impression of being, on balance at least, both emotionally engaging and rather amusing, in equal measures.

And who’d have thought that?

 

 

FILM REVIEW (2015): Spectre

I’m going to stick my neck out here and say that Sam Mendes is a big Bond fan.
Of course, the fact that he’s directed the last two Bond outings is the big give away, but it’s how he’s done it which is the most telling thing.
Mendes’ first outing, Skyfall, was arguably the best Bond film for many a long year and although his latest attempt possibly lacks the depth and subtext of its predecessor, as a pure, two hour slice of vintage James Bond, Spectre possibly even tops that.
Although it’s now become increasingly difficult to sum up Bond without coming over all Alan Partridge, Spectre is slick, chic, cheeky, sultry, amusing, dynamic, sexy, global, ridiculous and effortlessly cool.
There are tips of the hat to historical James Bond everywhere in Mendes’ casting. From the Dr No-esque instigator of all of the world’s evils (Christopher Wlatz playing Blofeld), to a vocally-stumped ape of a baddie (Dave Bautista plays Mr. Hinx), to not one, but two Bond love interests in the ever so shapely shape of Monica Bellucci – playing Lucia Sciarra – and Lea Seydoux of the very excellent Blue is the warmest colour fame, portraying Dr. Madeleine Swann.
The plot, bizarrely, comes from beyond the grave. A video message left by M (Judi Dench) prior to her demise in Skyfall, instructs Bond to track down and eliminate an assassin, Marco Sciarra, in Mexico, and to then follow up on this by attending his funeral in Rome. The trail and course of action will apparently become obvious from there…
As ever, Bond jets off around the globe in search of the links and connections that will ultimately lead him to the source of much evil-doing – in this case, a mass conspiracy by way of orchestrated ‘terrorist’ events, to install and control global surveillance of a nature and scale beyond the imagination.
The difference on this occasion is that Bond’s solo mission to track down Sciarra is unauthorised and these antics, combined with an overhaul of MI6 has left both he and M’s replacement, Ralph Fiennes (also M) surplus to requirements. In M’s place enters the slippery new head of security, C (Andrew Scott).
Is C just an eminently unlikable character or is there more to his devious nature? It’s all larger than life and very tongue in cheek. Just the way Bond should be.
From exhilarating helicopter and plane stunts to high octane car chases through the streets of Rome, pitting Aston Martin against Ferrari, the action set pieces certainly come thick and fast as Bond races around the globe from Mexico to England and Rome to Austria, in his bid to out-fox and see and end to the wrong-doings of an assortment of villainous types.
Sam Smith’s voice is excellent and deserving of better material, for what is in all honesty a fairly weak title song – it’s a shame that the relatively recent trend for poor Bond songs has not also been addressed – and Thomas Newman’s soundtrack borders on being over-the-top at times, but given the film’s content, probably just gets away with it, adding greatly to the film’s relentless velocity.
It’s hard to know where to go next for Mendes, if indeed he is at the helm for the next one? Given that he’s made such a good fist of these last two, I sincerely hope that he is.
Great fun, and a reverential approach from Mendes in the continued revival of the long running James Bond story.