Year:

The quasi-historical Last King of Scotland is a brilliantly constructed film which outlines the rule of Ugandan dictator Idi Amin. Starring James McAvoy and the ridiculously amazing Forest Whitaker, Last King takes the viewer on a confronting, yet mostly intriguing journey through a nation that is otherwise so distinctly foreign.

The Last King of Scotland is an interesting film in the way it is constructed and the way the story progresses. Starting in bleak, dreary Scotland the film quickly travels to Uganda following McAvoy as Dr Nicholas Garrigan. The contrast here is immense, indicative of Garrigan’s suffocation in Scotland and the perceived freedom he will have in Uganda. The colours are rich, the camera work frantic. The film is very visually appealing, yet it achieves this without an air of pretence. The first sights of Uganda are chirpy and upbeat, the viewer feels comfortable and at ease. The way the film manages to ever so slowly work in ominous scenes is most impressive. From a happy, fairly uplifting beginning the film slowly builds towards a crushing, brutal climax. The slow descent into chaos mirrors Amin’s increasing paranoia and use of militant force.

The film feels foreign. Being set in 1970s Uganda provides a strange backdrop which would otherwise be largely unknown to Western audiences. However the extent of this strangeness is not extreme, and the film manages to present this foreign world in a way that is still familiar and accessible. This accessibility is key to the film’s success in portraying the historical facts, for if it had been an extremely foreign film the historical message would have been lost. The camera work within the film is another key to this film. Its occasionally frenetic pace coupled with at times jerky movement contrast well with long shots and steady emotive takes. The mood is set so well by the use of the camera in this film and it gives so many clues as to Amin’s character and the state of his nation and his life.

Forest Whitaker as Amin is a force to be reckoned with. His presence on the screen demands attention, and he manages to pull off the charismatic presidential air of a dictator with a brilliance that is almost scary. Whitaker won an Academy Award for this role, and it is clear why the Academy chose this performance for their accolades. Whitaker manages to make the viewer feel like he is something more than just a man but indeed a leader and a ruler. It is difficult to quite put into words what Whitaker as Amin has, but there is an air about him that just feels so real. He has a humour, but it is a humour that is deliberately awkward and makes the viewer feel uncomfortable, much in the way your boss would crack a joke and you’d feel obliged to laugh. It is this discomfort as well as the undeniable charisma and screen presence that makes Whitaker’s portrayal of Amin so undeniably strong.

The Last King of Scotland is a brilliant film in its construction and in its acting talents. McAvoy and Whitaker work well together and the editing and use of camera is indeed just as powerful. Whilst the story is semi-fiction, the film still manages to enlighten the audience about an historical time frame that might otherwise be unknown. Furthermore it reveals, with much success, a man with absolute power who is corrupted absolutely.

Year:

Sacha Baron Cohen’s irreverent, offensive comedy Borat attempts to poke fun at American culture and attitudes through a mockumentary-style film that blurs the line between what is a fictional story and what are truthful pranks.

The film follows the character of Borat, a Kazakh television presenter, who is on a journey through America to help the Kazakhstan government learn how to improve their country. What follows is an offensive, eye-opening, shocking, crude, rude, disgusting, and mildly humorous trip through the American big cities, and the Deep South.

Borat is an odd film. It presents itself truthfully, and in some cases this may be true, but in other cases it’s clear that it is fictional. The obviously fake aspects of the film all surround Borat and his life in Kazakhstan. It’s fairly obvious when we are shown his village that the people surrounding him are unaware of what they are being made out to be. It’s somewhat shameful in the way that Baron Cohen makes use of a foreign villagers as “the town rapist” or the “town mechanic and abortionist”, when they would likely have no idea what they are being named. Despite these Kazakh scenes being obviously fictionalised, it still manages to incite some sort of offence. Anti-Semitism and persecution of gypsies is immediately in your face, and within the first five minutes the viewer is bombarded with so many awful racist comments. The “Running of the Jew” is particularly disgusting.

Yet these are the fictional segments of the film. It is the truthful interviews with American people that is really eye-opening. Baron Cohen as Borat has a wonderful affinity to make people uncomfortable just by pretending to be a clueless foreigner who is unfamiliar with the American culture. It is through this that the viewer becomes aware of the true attitude of Americans. Many of those he interviews try to be understanding and try to avoid being insensitive to this supposed foreigner, and it is this that creates the awkward hilarity such as the driving instructor choosing to agree to be Borat’s boyfriend rather than try to explain homosexuality to him, or the dinner party host having to explain to Borat how to go to the toilet correctly and that “the only person that touches you is you”. However on occasion Borat needn’t say a word and people will go on their insensitive rants. The most shocking revelation of certain American attitudes is Borat’s involvement with a Southern American rodeo. He is explained to by one man, with no provocation other than a few simple questions, that Muslims and homosexuals should be wiped out. Then Borat is welcomed to the rodeo with cheers as he speaks of America’s “War of Terror”, before finally singing a fake Kazakh national anthem in which he proclaims “all other countries are run by little girls” and that “other countries have inferior potassium”.

The film sets out to offend, and nothing is held sacred. Everything and anything is made fun of, yet for the most part it is the American culture and all its niches that takes the brunt of Borat‘s jokes. Ultimately the film’s simple, vague plot is merely a vehicle for Baron Cohen’s usual shenanigans which were first exhibited on Da Ali G Show. Whilst there are moments of gold, most of the film is laden with crude, insensitive remarks that seem for the most part unnecessary, and as such Borat‘s humour is cheapened. What could have been a very funny, thoughtful take on American culture became a plethora of offensive material. Yes, the film attempts to highlight the prejudices of others, but it does this in a way that almost reinforces the bigotry it tries to condemn, and as such the film’s message is a failure as it becomes overwhelmed with the character of Borat and less focussed on the prejudices of its subjects.

Year:

The gorgeous, confronting, suspenseful film Babel takes the viewer on an elaborately weaved roller-coaster ride of death, drama and humanity. The ensemble cast present a raw, emotionally complex story that reveals how life can be so subtly and intricately linked.

Babel is complex to say the least, taking place simultaneously (yet somewhat out of sync) in four different countries. The cast is large, and the story is larger, with drama and despair taking place in the lives of all characters. From the beginning it is clear that director Alejandro González Iñárritu was attempting filmic grandeur. Massive shots of the desolate Moroccan mountains contrast brilliantly with the metropolis of an anonymous Japanese city. Not only that America and Mexico are thrown into the mix as the film begins to feel like a travel show, being taken through the screen to places all around the world. However that’s where the comparisons end. The film is focussing on death, being the final film in Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Death Trilogy. It is clear from the outset that death is going to make its way into each of these character’s lives in some way or another.

What is not so clear from the beginning is how each of the four plot lines arelinked. The lives in the film are all so immensely different that it is difficult at first to think of how they might be linked. This creates a sense of intrigue, and the film becomes all the more gripping as small details become known about the interlinking of the characters’ lives. Slowly, slowly the plots unfurl and the blurry lines between nations and nationalities become clear. The story is powerful and interesting, and the way the film manages to link the different lives is magnificent. However the link with Japan is slightly tenuous, and this does make the Japan subplot feel somewhat out of place. Despite this the overall story is strong. The fluidity of time and space only heightens the intrigue and the simple alternation of location becomes such a powerful way of building suspense. Furthermore the decision to leave the film open-ended and choosing not to wrap everything up nicely only extends the viewers’ thought process further.

The film is a visually stunning piece of work. The cinematography is wonderful and successfully presents amazing views of Morocco and Japan, and to a lesser extent Mexico and the United States. The foreign locations are the focus of this film, and it is clear in Mexico and the US that less attention is paid here. Morocco’s desolation and isolation almost becomes a character within itself, providing a harsh environment as a backdrop to death. The creation of intrigue and suspense throughout the film enhances the story’s influence, and as such it becomes a gripping and sometimes shocking film that can work to really move the viewer. The use of music (and occasionally the use of complete silence) becomes a powerful tool in enhancing the emotion and drama, and it is particularly commendable.

Whilst the message of the film is not immediately known, it slowly becomes apparent that a message of humanity has been threaded throughout the various plots. As the characters work through their struggles we see that despite a person’s location or nationality, they are always a part of some sort of far-reaching aspect of humanity. These characters, so distant and different, yet linked unknowingly, are all products of the same earth, and this is the message that comes through in the end, even if it leaves many of the storylines unfinished.

Babel is a powerful film, and one that makes the mind think. The lack of a Hollywood ending leaves the viewer wanting more, yet also offers an ending that the viewer can assume. Ultimately the impact of the pure humanity being presented on the screen is that which is most powerful, and it is that which makes the viewer think.

Year: 2006
Director: Stephen Frears
Page: 945

A film depicting the fallout from Princess Diana’s death and the impact on the British Royal Family, The Queen is a triumph of acting and accuracy, with Helen Mirren being the absolute stand out in this magnificent film of loss, power and struggle.

The film takes place in the weeks following the election of Tony Blair and the death of Princess Diana, and chronicles the reaction by the royal family, in particular Queen Elizabeth II (played by Helen Mirren). The royal establishment is struggling, with Tony Blair (Michael Sheen) being elected by pushing modernisation, something that does not sit well with the Queen who is a woman of traditional values. Not only that, the sudden death of Diana puts the royal family into more turmoil, where royal protocol must inevitably move aside in order to redeem public opinion.

The film offers an amazing insight into the life of the British royals, with the viewer being privy to their holidaying at Balmoral. We see intimate moments between the Queen and Prince Phillip, we witness a royal barbecue, we experience royal protocol over dinner. It is as fascinating as it is odd, as the viewer hears the Queen refer to her son as the Prince of Wales, and her mother as Queen Elizabeth, as opposed to a less formal Charles or Mother. It is a bizarre world that is being portrayed, something that is recognised by the less royal characters of Tony Blair and his staff.

The depiction of truth in the film is something that must be commended. Whilst many scenes are no doubt fictionalised, for example the scenes within the Queen’s private bedroom and intimate scene with the royal family, screenwriter Peter Morgan also makes many efforts to pepper the film with historical truths. The use of news footage helped reaffirm the fact that this film is taking place within a specific time frame, and within a history of truthfulness. It is wonderfully integrated into the film, and does not confuse the viewer but instead aids the progression of the story.

The film itself does not make grand attempts at artistry or grandeur, focussing more on the characters than the visuals. This is not to say the film is not visually appealing, in fact it is quite a gorgeous film to watch, yet the focus is first and foremost on the actors and the acting. The pretty sets become merely a backdrop on which the actors can weave their own personal magic and transport the viewer into the world of their personal lives. It is on this backdrop that Helen Mirren as the Queen shines; her performance is the unquestionable stand out.

Mirren’s portrayal of the Queen is undeniably excellent. Her mannerisms, her voice, her expressions, her walk, her composure; all of it is just faultless. Mirren manages to present the Queen in a way that is not only believable but accessible. The viewer cannot help but feel a connection with this character who in real life seems so distant; a person who is so unlike the rest of the population. Mirren presents the Queen with a piercing royal stare, yet also manages to evoke a sense of vulnerability. We see cracks of fragility, suggestions of obsessive compulsions, and undeniable coldness of emotion. Yet it becomes clear that the Queen is merely following tradition, as she was born into this life, it’s all she’s ever known. She is a product of her upbringing, and Mirren manages to express this with a sense of pathos which the viewer cannot help but experience.

The Queen is a film that is genuinely sad, and wonderfully insightful. The rich performances by all actors, but in particular Mirren, allows the film to grip you emotionally such that the royal family feel less like a distant institution, but more like a regular family born into an a world that binds them to protocol and tradition. It is through these rich performances that the world of the royals becomes opened up to the viewer, and it is this that makes this film magnificent.

Year:

Mel Gibson’s epic film Apocalypto is a brutal, confronting, gory action film that makes weak attempts at symbolism, meaning and depth, yet ultimately falls into the realms of melodrama, presenting a bare-bones plot that fails to offer any originality.

Apocalypto takes place at the decline of the Mayan civilisation and the beginning of the Spanish colonisation of Central America and highlights the plight of a group of villagers taken captive to be sold as slaves and human sacrifices in the massive Mayan city. What follows is one man’s efforts to escape his brutal captors and save his pregnant wife and young son.

The film, it must be said, is visually stunning. The rich greens and browns of the rainforest contrast magnificently with the dull greys and whites of the city. Cinematographer Dean Semler achieved wonderfully rich scenes set within a wonderfully rich backdrop. The stark contrast between jungle and city was executed brilliantly. The jungle scenes have an air of prettiness and calm, contrasting with the epic scenes of chaos and confusion in the ancient Mayan city. The city is a particularly outstanding set, with huge Mayan step pyramids as well as small wooden huts and stone-built market squares. It is difficult to say how accurate the depiction of the city is, yet it is safe to say it is stunning. If the film is historically accurate, the insight into the Mayan culture and ways of life are enlightening and fascinating.

The actors (all of whom are unknowns) work seamlessly within the harsh jungle setting, as if they were really tribal villagers. The extensive make-up is impressive, with virtually all of the characters having some sort of tattoo, scarification or piercing. The extent to which the actors’ bodies are embellished is extreme, and makes up for the relative lack of clothing. Whilst the film attempts grand things, the acting itself is anything but. It is sufficient for the story, but it is by no means ground breaking work. Perhaps that is one of the perils of requiring unknown actors that can speak Mayan.

The story itself is rather two dimensional. Whilst Gibson and screenwriter Farhad Safinia weave in fairly blatant comments about humanity and society, the plot ultimately boils down to a stereotypical action movie melodrama, in which an heroic warrior must fight through ridiculous adversity to save the woman he loves. And what adversity it is. The death toll of this film is astronomical, with a character dying seemingly every other minute. To say this film is brutal is an understatement. It’s gore galore as people get stabbed, mutilated, beheaded, cut open, speared in the head, bludgeoned…the list goes on. The violence seems never-ending and you soon begin to question the necessity of so much blood and gore. Not only that it appears to paint the Mayan people as blood-thirsty savages who want nothing more than to inflict pain on others. The historical accuracy here is questionable.

When the film is not splattering the jungle with blood, there is a distinct message being shouted to the audience in a way that is impossible to miss. The film opens with the quote “A great civilization is not conquered from without until it has destroyed itself from within”, and this idea of a crumbling civilisation continues throughout the film. Omens, prophecies and superstitions all become a part of the story in much the same way that they are part of the Mayan way of life. The unsubtle message continues as we see the city, grappling with famine and disease. Their people are at war with jungle villagers, whom they capture in the attempt to sacrifice them to their god. Finally at the closing scene we see the beginnings of the conquest of Central America by the Spaniards. Famine, disease, war, conquest; the four horsemen of the apocalypse. It is blatantly obvious that this film in no subtle way deals with a societal apocalypse, and that Gibson wants his viewers to consider the contemporary analogues. The symbolism is almost frustratingly simple.

Even with the blatancy of the “message”, the film fails to deliver it well enough, and the plot still manages to fall into old action-adventure habits. The viewer is taken on a predictable ride, with the protagonist doing all he can to save his wife and child. Gibson tries and fails to add depth by setting the film in the Mayan jungle, using unknown actors speaking Mayan, and presenting a rather bland message about societal collapse. Despite all this, it is all merely window dressing, and the film is ultimately and unfortunately just an ultra-violent, under-intelligent, action-adventure film.

Year:

The Departed, staring a plethora of big-names, is a crime film that digs deep into the heart of the Irish-American mobsters of Boston. The film deals the viewer a plot full of twists and intricate nuances that the cast deliver with stellar performances.

The sceenplay, written by William Monahan and directed by Martin Scorsese, remakes Hong Kong film Infernal Affairs and transports it to Boston with impressive results. Monahan’s script deals with the subtle Boston specificities with particular skill and this shows through to the actors’ wrangling of the speed and complexity of blue-collar Boston speech. A notable example is Alec Baldwin as Captain George Ellerby, who maintains a somewhat comic relief in the film. However this comic relief is small and still manages to fit with the seriousness of the rest of the film.

The film itself deals with insiders on both sides of the law, in the police ranks and within the mob. The Irish-American mobsters have an informant within the Massachusetts State Police, whilst the police have managed to get an informant within the mob. What follows is a complex cat-and-mouse game in which each informant aims to rat out the other before they are found out. The drama and thrill of this back-and-forth game being played on both sides of the thin blue line creates a high tension as the viewer awaits the final climax. However, this climax is met with a twist, followed by a twist, followed by a twist back to the start, and the viewer is left feeling empty and somewhat disgruntled by the result. The film in no means has a happy ending, and whilst the bad guys lose so do the good guys.

The film is ultimately a question of identity. Does Detective Sullivan (Matt Damon) belong in the police force, or is he part of the mob? Is Billy Costigan (Leonardo DiCaprio) a member of the mob, or is he merely obeying police orders? This is what the film aims to determine, with Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson) being the main antagonist of these questions. Furthermore, the film also highlights the relationship of Irish-Americans to their spiritual home across the Atlantic. What is most intriguing is the way in which the film displayed this connection to their Irish heritage, a connection that seems to go much deeper than words.

The film also portrays the Boston identity in mostly an accurate light. The Boston accent, utilised by most of the actors, is the most notable representation of this. Whilst some (Damon in particular) manage the accent magnificently, others (mostly the minor characters) seem horribly stereotypical and over the top in their wrangling of the accent. The infusion of Boston throughout the film is not in-your-face, but instead is more subtle, as the film tries to immerse you in this world of corruption and deceit, rather than sell the city to prospective tourists. As such the city feels more real, more organic, and the film manages to live within the city, rather than live as the city.

This extends into the characters, who themselves feel real and organic. Nicholson as mob chief Frank Costello is magnificent and he portrays his deterioration and increased mental instability with an ease that only Nicholson knows. Damon as Detective Sullivan portrays a crooked cop with overwhelming honesty, and the viewer cannot help but occasionally feel like he is doing the right thing, as if his deceit is normal. DiCaprio is masterful as Costigan and manages to convey his internal conflict and mental stress brilliantly.

Whilst the film is excellent, it is not perfect. The length of the film meant there were many lulls that seemed to slow the progress for little gain. The opening scene of the film is long, with it being eighteen minutes before the opening credits begin. The film also begins confusingly, with time seeming to shift back and forth and the viewer unsure of where, why or when the movie is set. This seems to be a common theme in mob crime films, with facts being laid out so quickly and confusingly that it is easy to get lost. Also, despite most of the film steering well clear of many crime film stereotypes, the scene in which Costigan follows Sullivan through the Boston streets is a veritable raft of clichés involving mirrors, running in front of cars, trash cans, ringing phones, billowing steam, and people stepping out of hidden doorways.  This scene was a particular weak spot in an otherwise spectacular film.

All in all The Departed is a great film. Whilst it does have its downsides and its few bad scenes, the intricate plot, surprising twist, and excellent acting do bring it into its own.

Year:

The 2006 Spanish film Volver, starring Penélope Cruz in her native tongue, is a beautiful drama dealing with death, secrets and their impacts on a family of women linked by more than just blood.

Opening in a small Spanish village buffeted by the East Winds (a recurring theme throughout the film), the story reveals the traditions of death in rural Spain. Raimunda (Cruz) and Sole (Lola Dueñas) are visiting their old hometown from Madrid to clean their parents’ gravestone, a tradition upheld by the widows of the village. Their parents’ death and the circumstances surrounding the fire in which they died soon become critical to the plot, as secrets are revealed, murders take place, and their mother seemingly returns from the dead.

The film at first presents a relatively nationalistic view of Spain, with elderly widows dutifully cleaning the gravestones of their dead husbands, despite the unending wind and dust. This is where the viewer is first presented with the strong culture surrounding death. It is not a thing to be feared, but a thing to be embraced. Death is undoubtedly the principal theme in this film, and its cold hands reach far into the heart of the plot. However the film manages to convey death without being morbid or heartless. The Spanish attitude of embracing death comes through, with director Pedro Almodóvar successfully dealing with a black subject in a fairly light way.

This is not to say the film is a comedy. In fact, this is where the film falters. It becomes difficult to tell whether the film is a drama or a black comedy, with many humorous circumstances occurring in a most dramatic way. It becomes an odd mix of pathos and humour which in some cases fails to mesh, and this gives the film a somewhat flat feeling at times. This is especially the case in the odd scene when Agustina (Blanca Portillo) agrees to go on television, the humour is there yet it seems to be at battle with the seriousness of the situation. However, the richness of the plot does ultimately shine through, aided along by the very real dialogue and the magnificent cinematography.

Volver, which means literally “to come back”, is woven as a rich tapestry of death, secrets and tradition, as the women deal with murder, illness and unexpected returns, whilst all the while trying to keep their heads above water in their domestic lives. The plot is deep and detailed, and the characters are extremely well developed such that they feel real. The dialogue is believable, the acting magnificent. The cinematography which presents domestic life, city streets, expansive countryside and small villages, offers a wonderful glimpse at Spanish life and the difference yet odd similarity between the village and the city. This in turn ties in to the culture of death shown throughout the film, as the city dwelling sisters must grapple with the village traditions surrounding death which are upheld by the older characters.

Whilst Cruz is magnificent in her role as Raimunda, her casting seemed somewhat off, as she did not appear to fit with the rest of her family. Whilst this may have been representative of her emotional distance, it could also be considered an attempt to market a big-name in an otherwise small film. Despite this, Cruz is impeccable, as are Dueñas, Portillo as childhood friend Agustina, and Carmen Maura as Irene, Raimunda and Sole’s mother. The small ensemble cast present the story with life and reality, and the viewer can easily believe the history these women have had.

Ultimately Volver succeeds in delivering a rich, complex, and intriguing story that deals with extremely heavy issues such as death, murder, incest, illness, secrets and lies, in a way that doesn’t burden the viewer. Whilst the film could have been emotionally draining, Almodóvar succeeds in presenting these tough issues in a way that is representative of the Spanish attitudes towards death, a way that is understanding, accepting and embracing.