Skip to content
WHOOSH! That’s the sound of The 57th London Film Festival whizzing past, these days spreading its tentacles into the provinces as well as the suburbs. WHAM! is the sound made by the special effects (and our jaws as they drop to the floor) at Alfonso Cuaron’s 3D exploits. AAAAH and AWW! are the verdicts on the true-life story behind Steve Coogan’s powerfully emotive writing and acting, and on James Gandolfini’s final role.
‘Nuff said about the noise and buzz around the festival. On with our annual retrospective, once again split into handy sections. This is 2013 Part One, where we come not to bury, but to praise the big movies from the US and the UK – and the slightly smaller ones. Well, there might be the odd bit of burying, but only to save you wasting your dosh on the most flashily marketed but ultimately empty flicks. We want you to save yourselves and your money for the must-see movies and the unexpected treats. So DVDfever will mark your card. Starting right now.
But before we begin, let’s just say that Part Two will look at all the other good stuff from all over the world – plus some of the best documentaries. And in Part Three we’ll announce our annual and highly covetable DVDfever Awards.
In previous years we have noted the ubiquity of certain actors across the festival (and this year we’re looking at you, Mister Paul Giamatti). But it may be a first to have the very same leading man, Tom Hanks, in both the opening and closing gala movies: CAPTAIN PHILLIPS and SAVING MR BANKS. And both are based on true stories.
At first sight, CAPTAIN PHILLIPS is just another Paul Greengrass action flick, with Hanks as the calm captain of a loaded container ship navigating its way to Mombassa. All is smooth, even plain sailing as the crew start their voyage. And this is sharply contrasted with all the jerky, handheld shots of the Somali pirates. A truckload of foreshadowing gives a sense of inevitability to the plot as it unfolds – unstoppable force versus immovable object – with the Captain’s ordeal going up a notch in the final third of the film when it becomes a battle of wills. In many ways, this piracy face-off was done better by the low-budget Danish thriller A Hijacking at last year’s festival. But what elevates this year’s offering and means Hanks will, at the very least, get an Academy Award nomination, is the closing scene. The numbness, the fear, the inarticulacy are pitch perfect. And Oscar catnip.
SAVING MR BANKS may be directed by John Lee Hancock and have Hanks’ name first above the title, but this is really Emma Thompson’s film. She plays crotchety PL Travers, who invented and authored Mary Poppins and fought against Walt Disney (Hanks) getting hold of her creation and bastardising it: “She’ll be careening and cavorting!” But Disney promises “no animation”, and Travers has run out of money. So the die is cast, and after two decades of resisting his entreaties, she’s on a plane to Hollywood, which she hates from the get-go (despite her cheery chauffeur, Paul Giamatti’s efforts). Thompson channels Miss Jean Brodie and her own Nanny McPhee as she remains impervious to Walt’s charms, declaring that her books “do not lend themselves to chirping and prancing” and that Mary Poppins is certainly not a musical.
There’s a parallel story going on, harking back to her Travers’ outback upbringing, in which Ruth Wilson and Colin Farrell play her implausible Aussie ma and alcoholic pa. And this is meant to hold the key to her very personal ownership of the story and the banker who needs ‘saving’, Mr Banks. In truth, these Aussie scenes are a pretty crude way of spelling out that Travers is haunted by demons, and perhaps the only person to emerge honourably from this back-story is Rachel Griffiths as the governess who helps the struggling family. (She’s their strict nanny, do you see?) You’ll need more than a spoonful of medicine to help this sugar go down, as good ole American sentimentality is pitted against British pragmatism. If you want a darker picture of Walt Disney, you might be better off seeing Philip Glass’ opera, The Perfect American.
To witness the wonders modern Hollywood and its millions can conjure up, look no further than Alfonso Cuaron’s GRAVITY. But be sure to put your 3D glasses on first, as you won’t want to miss a thing. The effects are gob-smackingly, eye-poppingly epic, yet Cuaron still achieves an intimacy that most 3D lacks. For this is a simple story of two adventurers working out in space, George Clooney and Sandra Bullock. He’s the wise-cracking veteran; she’s the space newbie, and they’re both cast adrift when everything goes wrong. They have to abort their mission, and as viewers we are right there as they experience utter isolation and discombobulation, and we feel their sense of genuine peril.
As the space junk spirals around and crashes into them, they have to fall back on their own strengths instead of all the state-of-the-art technology. And – this is a phrase I never thought I’d write – Sandra Bullock reveals herself to be a very fine actor indeed, who might finally be escaping those sob-rom-com-drams she’s been saddled with for years.
Don’t want to peak too early, but head and shoulders above any other film at this year’s festival is Steve McQueen’s latest, 12 YEARS A SLAVE (above-right). If Chiwetel Ejiofor doesn’t win the Best Actor Oscar for his performance as Solomon Northup, hats will be eaten. This is an astonishing, truthful portrayal at the heart of an uncompromising, shocking film that tackles slavery head on. Based on Northup’s memoir, it immediately hurls a successful, free man out of his genteel prosperity into a world of relentless brutality. And McQueen’s camera never shies away from the staggering truth, from Northup and fellow slaves being paraded and sold as if they are livestock, and their endless dehumanising (Paul Giamatti plays a typically odious seller), to the use and abuse of them as chattels by their ‘owners’, and the quoting of the Bible to justify their inhumanity.
There are tiny chinks of light, like Benedict Cumberbatch as Northup’s first master, who recognises his gifts, yet cannot protect him from near-death when he’s hanged from a tree by vengeful overseers, and dangles there while life goes on around him. But his second owner, Epps (McQueen’s favourite actor, Michael Fassbender) is a crazed, demonic, all-too-credible monster. He’s not content to control his slaves through violence, cruelty and sexual assault, but also pushes his wife (another terrific performance from Sarah Paulson) to her wits’ end, as she descends to his level. Producer Brad Pitt, perhaps understandably, gives himself one of the few sympathetic roles, but he and McQueen deserve all the plaudits going for bringing this story to the screen and persuading Ejiofor to take the lead role. And there’s more Ejiofor to come…
Go to page 2 for Inside Llewyn Davis, Parkland and more…
Full disclosure means I must reveal that many scenes of the Coen Brothers’ INSIDE LLEWYN DAVIS were filmed in my Greenwich Village friend’s apartment block – it seems those steep stairs and narrow corridors haven’t changed in five decades. For this drama ploughs the same musical furrow as The Mighty Wind did through comedy, tapping into the almost-beyond-parody world of folk performers in Sixties New York City and beyond. Our dysfunctional hero is Llewyn Davis (Oscar Isaac), an amalgam of all the freewheeling sub-Dylan troubadours who frequented the clubs and coffee houses, couch-surfing long before the term was invented.
Rubbish songs rub shoulders with catchy ones, as Justin Timberlake and Carey Mulligan play Davis’ fellow singers, and Mr Mulligan (aka Marcus Mumford) collaborates with T-Bone Burnett on the mixed soundtrack. Mulligan herself delivers the best line, summing up Davis thus: “Everything you touch turns to shit – like King Midas’ idiot brother.” And making his customary Coen cameo is John Goodman sporting an epic toupee, which really deserves its own credit. Close, but no cigar.
Based on Joyce Maynard’s novel, LABOR DAY is a gripping romantic thriller about Adele (Kate Winslet), an anxious single mom with a protective teenage son, Henry (Gattlin Griffith) who has a vivid imagination. One day their home and lives are invaded by an escaped felon, Frank (Josh Brolin), who coerces them into helping him. From their initial fear and mistrust spring a kind of Stockholm Syndrome, when Frank proves to be an indispensable handyman and excellent cook, with their collective baking of a peach cobbler beautifully fetishised. It’s to Winslet’s immense credit that under Jason (Juno) Reitman’s direction you completely believe that she’s a middle American housewife, struggling with her tight, constantly replayed loop of memories. Brolin is equally fine, but it’s young Griffith who steals the show. Warning: you will require hankies to watch this.
img src=”https://dvd-fever.co.uk/dvd-fever/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/hjlff13part1d.jpg” alt=”hjlff13part1d” width=”180″ height=”245″ class=”alignright size-full wp-image-23989″ />Alexander Payne’s NEBRASKA is quite the best thing he’s made; much better than Sideways or The Descendants. Shot in gorgeous black and white, it uses a cast of largely unknown faces, with the exception of Bruce Dern as the ageing Woody, and Stacy Keach as his old nemesis, and is all the more credible for it. When Woody receives some junk mail telling him he’s won a million bucks, he stubbornly insists on travelling from Montana to Nebraska to collect his winnings, no matter how often he’s informed that it’s a scam. His son David (Will Forte) succumbs to the constant entreaties and drives them there, via Woody’s old hometown, which is where the key scenes take place. Word gets around, and old friends and greedy relatives line up for ‘their’ share of the booty. But Woody’s hard-nosed, straight-talking wife, brilliantly played by June Squibb (give her a Supporting Actress Award!), pours cold water on all their claims. Charming, yet cussed, full of home truths and gnarly old characters, this feels almost like a documentary in its unflinching portrait of smalltown life, and every frame is like a painting. Highly recommended.
Despite yet another role for Alexander Payne’s Sideways star Paul Giamatti, PARKLAND is not quite the sum of its parts. Or rather there are too many parts, with no real focus. This is Peter Landesman’s film of the day when JFK was shot, the people who witnessed it (Giamatti), those medics who tried to save him (Zac Efron and Marcia Gay Harden), and its aftermath. Plus, as Tom Hanks is one of the producers, his son Colin also features. But instead of adding something new to the assassination story, this seems more like forensic fetishism, with completely inconsequential incidents and characters awkwardly juxtaposed with the core narrative. It’s almost like the amateur footage taken by Giamatti’s character, Zapruder: unedited, raw, but only partially illuminating.
Go to page 3 for Philomena, Half a Yellow Sun and more…
Back in 2011 we saw Ralph Fiennes’ directing debut in Coriolanus and last year we had our Dickens’ fix with Great Expectations, so this time we get both. For his second feature, Fiennes has chosen to make Claire Tomalin’s excellent book about Nelly Tiernan into THE INVISIBLE WOMAN, while starring as Charles Dickens himself. It’s all seen from Nelly’s point of view, looking back several years later, and Felicity Jones impresses in the role. And there’s strong support from the likes of festival favourite Kristin Scott-Thomas as Nelly’s actress mother, and Tom Hollander as Wilkie Collins.
It’s all waistcoats, bustles and long walks, as the teenage Nelly admits she’s a huge fan of Dickens’ work, while he loves her youth and laps up her adoration. Indeed, he knows that the public’s adoration in general is key, and after performing David Copperfield he coolly admits: “I am told these readings double sales.” We see the philanthropic, socially aware and campaigning side of the author too, just as he’s neglecting his own family, and his wife (Joanna Scanlon) learns of their separation in The Times. For Dickens aficionados (myself included) this will only whet their appetite for further explorations of their idol’s inspiration and psychology.
Not to be outdone by his posh thespian brethren, Steve Coogan takes a dual responsibility in PHILOMENA, both writing the screenplay and starring as reporter Martin Sixsmith. He wisely leaves the directing to Stephen Frears though. This is the heartbreaking true story of a young girl, Philomena, who was pushed into an Irish Mother and Baby Home when she fell pregnant, then had her baby son taken away from her. Judi Dench plays Philomena decades later, grown up and still grieving. She wonders what became of her beloved boy, and despite Sixsmith’s cynicism and increased bitterness after his recent sacking, he agrees to help her find her son and write their story. Coogan and Dench are just right as the awkward couple, as they embark on a journey that starts in a convent cloaked in secrecy, where the nuns feed them untruths, and goes to Washington DC and beyond. Another tear-jerker, I confess.
In HALF A YELLOW SUN, based on Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Orange prize-winning novel, Chiwetel Ejiofor takes another lead role, as a revolutionary with a liking for alcohol and danger, and a roving eye. First-time director Biyi Bandele gets to the heart of this epic story of post-colonial Nigerian civil war through the parallel tales of two well-heeled sisters, Olanna and Kainene, beautifully played by Thandie Newton and Anika Noni Rose. We are pulled into their struggle, as their fortunes ebb and flow, tribes turn on each other, and violence gnaws away at the heart of their homeland. Plaudits all round.
There’s another side of Nigerian culture in Destiny Ekaragha’s broad comedy GONE TOO FAR, which had its world premiere at the festival. Adapted by Bola Agbaje from her own stage play, this is a laugh-out-loud look at cultural differences between brothers from Peckham (Yemi) and Nigeria (Iku), with the latter’s unwanted arrival and choice of footwear (socks with sandals) threatening Yemi’s street-cred – not to mention his burgeoning romance. Adolescent awkwardness, vanities, jealousies and petty racial divisions all ring true, as does their archetypal Nigerian mum, berating and chasing after both her boys in her slippers. All wonderfully captured by cinematographer Stil Williams.
Go to page 4 for The Double, Enough Said and more…
Richard Ayoade’s crisply funny debut film, Submarine, certainly raised expectations for whatever he chose to do next. And few would have predicted him tackling a Dostoevsky short story, as he does in THE DOUBLE. It’s brave, certainly, and the casting of Jesse Eisenberg as a lowly clerk and his doppelganger (both lusting after their colleague Mia Wasikowska) is inspired. There’s a constant atmosphere of fear and paranoia, he includes sly references to genre classics like Rear Window, 1984 and even The Apartment, while the cameos come thick and fast from Chris Morris, Paddy Considine, James Fox, plus Ayoade’s fellow-IT Crowd star Chris O’Dowd. Tonally, however, it strides a bit of a no-man’s land between psychological drama and black comedy, and it’s hard to really care about Eisenberg’s powerless clerk, his bad suit, bad hair and endless bad luck. But Ayoade certainly has his directing chops now.
LOCKE is another film I thought looked unpromising, starring Tom Hardy and no-one else for almost an hour and a half. How wrong I was. Hardy, like Sandra Bullock in Gravity, shows he is a bona fide actor, and you simply cannot take your eyes off him. He plays a Welsh building site manager, Ivan Locke, trying to delegate all his duties for the next day on his mobile phone, while he drives down the motorway to be with a woman having his baby after a one-night stand. Meanwhile, he is mustering the courage to tell his wife why he’s not coming home that evening. It’s all framed around Hardy endlessly, patiently trying to manage all these life-changing, impossible conversations, seemingly in real time, as the lights flicker down on him on the dark route towards London and the tension ramps up with every call. All the other characters are disembodied voices down the other end of the line (including Olivia Colman as the nervous, expectant woman, and Ruth Wilson as his wife), so Hardy has to hold the whole thing together. Which he does rather magnificently. With a lovely Welsh accent.
Debut director Rob Brown’s SIXTEEN is also shot on a limited budget, and feels genuinely claustrophobic, despite being shot on location, in and around a gritty London estate. Fans of Top Boy should check this out; fans of acting should watch it for the central performances of newcomer Roger Jean Nsengiyumva as Jumah and the riveting Rachael Stirling as his adoptive mum. As he approaches his 16th birthday, Jumah is escaping his previous life as a child soldier in the Congo, and just when he’s considering a career as a barber, he’s dragged back into a life of violence. It’s not yet the finished article, but a very promising start.
Not exactly a film, but a brand new comedy series about their real relationship, DOLL & EM is a very personal passion project for actress Emily Mortimer. ‘Em’ is a glamorous, successful Hollywood actress (which Mortimer is) while her lifelong friend, Dolly Wells is struggling with an unfulfilling love-life and job back in London. Em’s solution is to fly Doll over to be her personal assistant, even though she quickly proves to be the worst PA imaginable, hindering more than assisting, flirting with Em’s co-stars, moaning at every opportunity, and making Em feel guilty all the time. This is a grower, with its comedy of embarrassment echoing Curb Your Enthusiasm, and guest stars from Andy Garcia to Susan Sarandon clearly relishing playing larger-than-life versions of themselves.
Two comedies that certainly have their moments, but don’t quite come off, are HELLO CARTER and AFTERNOON DELIGHT, despite each featuring one of our most promising young actresses, respectively Jodie Whittaker and Juno Temple. Anthony Wilcox’ London-based debut, Hello Carter, revolves around a couple of sweet singletons (Whittaker and Charlie Cox) seemingly destined never to get together – but they’re not sufficiently engaging to pull you through.
Jill Solway’s first feature, Afternoon Delight, is an offbeat romcom of opposites, with Kathryn Hahn as a bored housewife who befriends a stripper (Temple) amidst scenes of raunchy dance lessons, tender voyeuristic moments, and a slowly disintegrating marriage. Though Jane (Glee) Lynch does her customary scene-stealing as Hahn’s needy and judgemental shrink, the film perhaps chickens out on delivering what it seems to promise.
Let’s end on a high though, with Nicole Holofcener’s warm comedy of manners and middle-age, ENOUGH SAID. This is dedicated “For Jim”, and is the last film from the late James Gandolfini, who looks like he’s having a ball as Albert, opposite smart and sassy Julia Louis-Dreyfus. She plays LA masseuse, Eva, who caters to countless spoiled and overly talkative customers, and at a party not only finds a new client, Catherine Keener’s pretentious poet, Marianne, but is also drawn to easy-going Albert.
Someway down the line, when she’s become Marianne’s bosom buddy and Albert’s lover, Eva suddenly realises that these opposites were once husband and wife. Can she keep this to herself? What will her old chum (Toni Colette) make of this? Holofcener claims the story isn’t autobiographical, though it is based on friends and family. And she gives credit to Jim and Julia for adding their own bits to the script, which feel entirely organic and true as you savour their obvious enjoyment. Recommended.
Coming next: part two of the festival review includes all the best from the rest of the world – including The Best Film Of The Year – and we’ll update you on the documentaries too…