Review - My Week with Marilyn

Whether she was an underrated actress perpetually struggling to break out of her shell or a glorified bimbo who just happened to land a career in Hollywood, there’s no denying Marilyn Monroe was a bona fide icon, a starlet destined to dazzle whoever caught a glimpse of her sumptuous figure, golden locks and cheeky little mole. In the case of My Week with Marilyn, many will enter the cinema wondering which version of Marilyn they will be seeing, the bimbo or the actress?

Director Simon Curtis makes the wise decision to explore both sides of his protagonist so that she never feels like a gross caricature. Based on the memoirs of Colin Clark (Eddie Redmayne), the film narrates the latter’s experience as an assistant on the set of The Prince and the Showgirl, where he was lucky enough to embark on a fleeting relationship with Marilyn Monroe (Michelle Williams), much to the chagrin of her co-star Laurence Olivier (Kenneth Branagh) and the rest of the disgruntled crew.

Rather than going for the overfamiliar (and frankly quite tiring) rise and fall trajectory seen in countless Hollywood biopics, Adrian Hodges’ script opts for a more contained and intimate story that manages nonetheless to touch upon Marilyn’s quirks and demons. Despite her status as a movie star and sex symbol, a role she is often seen enjoying to some degree, Monroe spends most of the film crippled by self-doubt and in awe of her theatre trained colleagues, especially uber-thespian Olivier, who shows no mercy when it comes to undermining his naïve co-star. These are the scenes where the movie star disappears and instead we see Norma Jean, the scared little girl who is forced into playing the role of this fascinating woman the world expects her to be.

The fact that Michelle Williams makes a stunningly believable Marilyn just goes to show how far she has come since her days on the Creek. We know from her turns in Brokeback Mountain and Blue Valentine how well she can handle repression, but the fact that she convincingly pulls off Monroe’s slinky mannerisms as well is a personal triumph for the rising star. In the film’s standout moment, after spending an afternoon touring Windsor Castle with Colin in childlike wonder, Marilyn is confronted by a group of fans. “Shall I be her?” she tentatively asks her young beau, before impeccably slipping into her on-screen persona and striking a series of her iconic poses for the cheering crowd.

The inevitable downside of having such a talented actress playing a legendary figure means that the rest of the cast barely registers on the radar. The possible exception may well be Branagh’s cantankerous Olivier, but Eddie Redmayne, Dominic Cooper, a post-Potter Emma Watson and even Judi Dench cannot compete with Williams on fine, Oscar-baiting form.

The end result is a film that is small in scope and made worthwhile purely thanks to the charms and efforts of its leading lady. Expect nominations galore for Williams, but My Week with Marilyn is unlikely to register in Best Film polls.

3/5

Review - 50/50

It’s a difficult thing, pulling off a cancer comedy. Yeah, you read that right. Jonathan Levine’ film ditches the drama and tear-jerking from other tumour-themed entries in favour of sex, weed and Seth Rogen’s potty mouth. But try get past the sour premise and you’ll be surprised to find a film that is actually very sweet without being saccharine.

50/50 tells the story of 27 years-old Adam Lerner (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), who is unexpectedly diagnosed with a rare form of spinal cancer and must go through chemotherapy. Rather than dwelling on the negative, namely a 50% chance of survival, Adam is talked into enjoying life to the max by his best friend Kyle (Rogen), who proceeds to set him up with hot girls and procure copious amounts of medical marijuana to take the edge off.

The fact that it is based on screenwriter Will Reiser’s own experience with cancer may be a get-out-of-jail-free card, but there are times when 50/50 risks venturing too much into stoner-com territory and one or two gags do seriously blur the line of political correctness (“Loads of celebrities get over this cancer shit: Lance Armstrong, the guy from Dexter, Patrick Swayze…”).

Fortunately, Reiser’s script always knows how to rein in the characters and when to drop the laughs and focus on the more serious matters at hand. At one point Adam admits to his therapist (Anna Kendrick) that he is actually freaked out by his loved ones’ reluctance to address the possibility he may not actually survive this surreal ordeal. Another scene sees Adam inadvertently stumble upon a “Facing Cancer Together” book lying around Kyle’s apartment, shortly after chastising his best pal of being a selfish asshole. The overarching theme of confronting our mortality is present throughout.   

Joseph Gordon-Levitt does a quietly impressive job as the cancer-stricken protagonist. His impressively mature and restrained handling of his unfortunate condition is oddly a frequent source of humour, until he eventually explodes into a fit of desperation that is deeply heart-breaking. He also shares good chemistry with a lusciously eccentric Anna Kendrick (who is just waiting to be cast in a Woody Allen film) and more importantly with frequent on-screen co-star Seth Rogen. The latter may be rehashing his usual slob shtick from the Judd Apatow films he’s been starring in for the past few years, but it does provide welcome respite the film’s more melancholic moments.   

Essentially, it is the script’s ability to prompt tears and laughs in equal measure that elevates 50/50 from cancer comedy (a tag that will sound increasingly misjudged by the end credits) to an affecting flick about people struggling to find humour in difficult circumstances.

3/5         

Review - Senna

The great thing about Asif Kapadia’s documentary about F1 driver Ayrton Senna is that it doesn’t feel like a documentary at all. Despite the grainy 80s archive footage and the off-screen testimonials, Senna plays out like an epic biopic made for the big-screen. All the cathartic ingredients are there: Ayrton’s blind religious faith, his complex rivalry with fellow champion Alain Prost and of course, the roaring, riveting races caught on his vehicles’ mini cameras. The San Marino Grand Prix makes for a tragic finale, but also highlights how beloved and respected Senna was as a human being. Expect this to pick up a Best Documentary Oscar at next year’s ceremony.

5/5   

Review - Breaking Dawn Part 1

Ever since the first installment back in 2008, the Twilight films have seriously struggled to win over film critics. It didn’t help that the central love story in the first chapter played out like a rehash of the Buffy and Angel ballad seen in Joss Whedon’s cult show, while New Moon, one of the dullest blockbusters in recent memory, spent most of its running time searching for its male lead and a decent plot.

But then Eclipse came along. The schmaltz and mopey self-pitying were still there, but a healthy dose of pathos was added to the Edward/Bella/Jacob triangle, while the climactic smackdown between the vamps and wolves made for a satisfyingly action-packed finale. By the end of the threequel, Twilight almost started to feel… cool (GASP!).

Trust Breaking Dawn to bring it all down. What should’ve been the dramatic finale to a popular saga has turned out to be a frustratingly unremarkable entry marred by baffling plot points and what feels like a mash of incompatible genres.

We start out with Bella and Edward’s wedding and honeymoon. While the former is enjoyable in a quirky sort of way, the latter is an unintentional laugh fest. Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart do what they can with the material they’re given, but even their best efforts cannot prepare you for one of the most ludicrously puritan takes on nuptial sex you’ll ever see in mainstream cinema. By the time Edward takes a vote of abstinence (on his honeymoon), you’ll feel as awkward as a third wheel in a sexually stale relationship.

Speaking of third wheels, Taylor Lautner phones in yet another whingey performance, despite having what is theoretically the coolest role. Jacob should be a wisecracking, lovelorn smartass, but Lautner’s apparent inability to act makes him come off as a horny, petulant teen (with his very own singles club in one scene, nonetheless).

The second half of the film intriguingly dips into body horror territory in a Rosemary’s Baby’s sort of way, as Bella’s demonic spawn gradually crushes her organs from the inside. Unluckily, even this development is tainted by the presence of shoddy CGI wolves, a canine caesarean and a brief sequence in which Jacob… well, you need to see it to believe it. Let’s just say it borders on pedophilia.

Since the producers have gone and pulled a Harry Potter, Breaking Dawn Part 2 won’t be hitting our screens till next summer. Whether the final installment will be able to recoup some of Eclipse’s cool and end the saga decently remains to be seen, but for now what we have here is an incomplete film in every sense of the word.

2/5  

Review - The Rum Diary

It’s early morning and a sweaty, hung-over Paul Kemp (Johnny Depp) wakes up in a hotel room covered in empty bottles and smashed in furniture. As he barely gains consciousness, he staggers across the floor to open the curtains, where he is greeted by radiant sunlight and a lavish oceanic view. Welcome to Puerto Rico.

As far as openings go, it’s an attention grabber. The first scenes of The Rum Diary, populated with a plethora of drunken, degenerate journalists, promise an anarchic romp to rival director Bruce Robinson’s acclaimed Withnail & I and Depp’s previous stab at debauchery in Fear & Loathing Las Vegas (just substitute drugs with booze and the muddy English countryside with a lush Caribbean isle). Sixties' counterculture and a jazzy rumba score further add to excitement, as does Amber Heard’s Aphrodite-like entrance as a temptress with a penchant for skinny-dipping…

… But then something happens to ruin it all. Or rather, nothing happens at all. See, The Rum Diary is adapted from a Hunter S. Thompson novel that remained incomplete for a long time before the author was coerced into finishing it. This sense of intermittence is also palpable on-screen, with Robinson not knowing what to do with the plot and the characters after a cracking first act.

The end result is a film that feels episodic in structure and thematically incoherent. It is never clear whether we’re supposed to take Kemp’s journalistic crusade seriously or not. He may be moved by the sight of poor Puerto Rican kids living in abandoned cars and at one point attempts to rally his colleagues to rise against the corporate machine, but he never acts upon his words. This may say a lot about Kemp (or Thompson, for that matter) as a character, but it also means we’re left with an aimless narrative that doesn’t reward our patience.

Thankfully, The Rum Diary manages to deliver some comedic value that saves it from total ignominy. A preposterous car chase featuring the most inventive use of an alcoholic weapon is the film’s highpoint, followed closely by the most decadent courtroom scene to grace our screens this year. The fact that Depp carries these scenes just goes to show what a gifted physical comedian he’s become and we all know where he perfected his bumbling buffoon act (hint: it’s a series of films also set in the Caribbean).

Nevertheless, don’t let the sporadic laughs fool you into thinking this isn’t a disappointing achievement. The film may have rum in the title, but that shouldn’t mean you need to be drunk to enjoy it.

2/5 

Review - XXX

If James Bond were American, jacked up on steroids and partial to the odd death metal track, he would look something like Vin Diesel's macho man. From the pornographic-sounding title to the ludicrous notion that an extreme sports enthusiast could become a secret agent, everything about XXX is gloriously silly, to the point that you forgive the poor script and Rob Cohen's uninspired direction. His leading man clearly can't act either, but it doesn't matter. With bulging biceps, a gravelly voice and that name, Vin Diesel is pure action star material. Is it still too late for him to become the new Arnie?

3/5

Review - Twin Town

Bold, anarchic and sporadically unsettling, Twin Town almost feels like a Welsh little brother to Trainspotting, a perception consolidated by the presence of weed and mushrooms in the film’s opening minutes. But Kevin Allen’s black comedy never dwells on the drugs and instead delivers a rambunctious portrayal of Swansea, a “pretty shitty city” populated by a host of uncouth characters you never truly root for yet can’t help take your eyes off. Top of the bunch are real-life siblings Rhys and Llŷr Ifans, who provide the film’s wicked streak, followed by William Thomas as a vile local gangster.

3/5