Released in the UK one year after its poor performance in the US, it is a surprise that The Brothers Bloom has eventually plodded into cinemas. Written and directed by Rian Johnson and is his follow up to cult favourite Brick, The Brothers Bloom is an uneven, wacky con-movie.
Brothers Bloom (Adrien Brody) and Stephen (Mark Ruffalo) are con men; Stephen is the brains, whilst Bloom is the player. Stephen concocts fabulous cons and gives the job to Bloom to execute, having worked together double crossing people Bloom is becoming disillusioned and depressed with the life his brother has written for him. The brothers decide to do one final con, alongside silent right hand woman BangBang (Rinko Kikuchi) and target lonely ‘epileptic photographer’ heiress Penelope (Rachel Weiz). Thus begins a romp around the world as Penelope is seduced by the adventure the brothers take her on whilst Bloom begins developing feelings for Penelope.
A fundamental problem is the lack of chemistry, zing or even any substantial scenes between the two brothers. For a film entitled The Brothers Bloom, there is not much about the brothers as a team, focusing instead on Bloom and Penelope’s blossoming and rather boring romance. We do not get a real sense of the brother’s relationship, their love or who they are, despite an overlong misjudged pre-credits childhood sequence.
The comedy is very uneven; moments of slapstick litter the film awkwardly, usually involving Penelope’s epilepsy, animals drinking alcohol or a car crashing. Ruffalo and Kikuchi have greater comedic timing than Brody and Weiz, yet are sidelined in comparison to the two weaker leads. Weiz is charming enough but Brody looks and feels uncomfortable.
Fortunately, there is fun to be had from the supporting characters. BangBang (Kikuchi) in a nearly silent role is easily the most interesting character and most fun to watch, her bad ass attitude and stunning good looks bring some much needed zing to the piece. Robbie Coltrane’s fun Belgian con artist is genuinely amusing; it is a pity he disappears half way.
The pacing is fine and the film at least zips along merrily for the first hour, however, the final act starts to drag as the story shifts gear to an emotional thriller. However, the characters are not developed and are far too smug and unlikeable to care for, making the shift unsatisfactory and leading to a disappointing cop-out ending. This leads to the problem of tone, Johnson does not really settle on what he wants to do; it seems he has crammed everything he had into The Brothers Bloom so it is bursting with too many elements, genres and ideas being in; ultimately losing focus and failing to deliver, except on a technical level. The visuals are stunning and the editing techniques are flashy and echo the moments of brilliance Johnson displayed in Brick.
Like the beginning of an underperforming stage musical, The Brothers Bloom opens with fireworks, explosive jazz music and shining lights and is technically and visually great. However, like a stage musical, is littered with cheap tricks and gimmicks with no plot to speak of, or at least a plot that is all over place. The narrator misleadingly tells us ‘we ain’t ever seen a con story like this before’ –– well we have, and we’ve seen it done better.
Monday 7 June 2010
The Killer inside me
A slow burning, intriguing and morally ambiguous piece, which has divided critics and audiences alike; The Killer Inside Me has made it over to Britain after a shaky controversial start. There seems to be an annual low budget grisly film that causes a stir at a festival; this year, it’s Killer inside me.
Casey Affleck plays Lou Ford, a quiet cop in a sleepy 1960’s Texan town. Ford slowly reveals through his actions and his hypnotic narration that he isn’t just a cop, he’s a serial killer. However, you will not find the tongue in cheek comedy of Dexter or American Psycho here. He develops a sadomasochist relationship with Joyce (Jessica Alba) whilst Amy (Kate Hudson) falls for his charms. However, certain folk suspect that behind that calm exterior, Lou is hiding something.
The character of Lou is interesting and his presence really drives the story. Like all good memorable serial killers, he has a dual personality. His character is well developed, with hints of a troubled past scattered throughout (psycho mother issues alert) which allows us to begin understand to why he is why he is. Affleck is a charismatic, interesting lead, who takes us through his rather strange view point of his world, effectively using his slightly deranged voice in an endearing performance.
Some of the plot may be difficult to follow; many characters names are often just referred to, making it difficult to match names to faces, especially as the supporting cast of the local men with heavy accents are so interchangeable and because Affleck effortlessly dominates every scene he is in.
Several sequences are masterfully put together and shot and moments are genuinely surprising. The bleak story unfolds at a steady pace, with Affleck’s unnerving narration and the wonderful cinematography oozing noir atmosphere. Unfortunately, the story eventually runs out of steam and deteriorates into silliness. The overuse of opera music, which has become a cliché to indicate ‘psychos are at work’ becomes slightly irritating, but thankfully the equal dosage of classic almost eerie country music makes up for it.
This high level of violence is nothing new in cinema, but it is un-relentlessly and brutally against women. The violence and sadomasochism feels almost glamorised as the camera lingers upon the women’s pain without fail. On the other hand, male characters are taken out swiftly by bullets to the head or with dignity off screen. The Killer Inside Me also paints a horrendous depiction of women; they are all weak, unlikeable and verge on being pathetic. Jessica Alba is fine, but she is not required to do much more than have sex, cry and occasionally wink and smile at the camera like she is on a magazine cover. Kate Hudson is poor; she does not possess the southern sass the character requires, nor is the character developed enough for the audience to engage with. She should stick to romantic comedies, however, that could certainly be argued against also.
However, ignoring the baggage that has accompanied the film and ignoring the countless flaws, The Killer Inside Me is an interesting, bleak exploration of a twisted individual with disturbing imagery and slow burning tension. It’s an acquired taste. Looking at Winterbottom’s back catalogue, he is no stranger to causing a fuss or shying away from gritty themes or controversy, and Killer inside me is no exception.
Casey Affleck plays Lou Ford, a quiet cop in a sleepy 1960’s Texan town. Ford slowly reveals through his actions and his hypnotic narration that he isn’t just a cop, he’s a serial killer. However, you will not find the tongue in cheek comedy of Dexter or American Psycho here. He develops a sadomasochist relationship with Joyce (Jessica Alba) whilst Amy (Kate Hudson) falls for his charms. However, certain folk suspect that behind that calm exterior, Lou is hiding something.
The character of Lou is interesting and his presence really drives the story. Like all good memorable serial killers, he has a dual personality. His character is well developed, with hints of a troubled past scattered throughout (psycho mother issues alert) which allows us to begin understand to why he is why he is. Affleck is a charismatic, interesting lead, who takes us through his rather strange view point of his world, effectively using his slightly deranged voice in an endearing performance.
Some of the plot may be difficult to follow; many characters names are often just referred to, making it difficult to match names to faces, especially as the supporting cast of the local men with heavy accents are so interchangeable and because Affleck effortlessly dominates every scene he is in.
Several sequences are masterfully put together and shot and moments are genuinely surprising. The bleak story unfolds at a steady pace, with Affleck’s unnerving narration and the wonderful cinematography oozing noir atmosphere. Unfortunately, the story eventually runs out of steam and deteriorates into silliness. The overuse of opera music, which has become a cliché to indicate ‘psychos are at work’ becomes slightly irritating, but thankfully the equal dosage of classic almost eerie country music makes up for it.
This high level of violence is nothing new in cinema, but it is un-relentlessly and brutally against women. The violence and sadomasochism feels almost glamorised as the camera lingers upon the women’s pain without fail. On the other hand, male characters are taken out swiftly by bullets to the head or with dignity off screen. The Killer Inside Me also paints a horrendous depiction of women; they are all weak, unlikeable and verge on being pathetic. Jessica Alba is fine, but she is not required to do much more than have sex, cry and occasionally wink and smile at the camera like she is on a magazine cover. Kate Hudson is poor; she does not possess the southern sass the character requires, nor is the character developed enough for the audience to engage with. She should stick to romantic comedies, however, that could certainly be argued against also.
However, ignoring the baggage that has accompanied the film and ignoring the countless flaws, The Killer Inside Me is an interesting, bleak exploration of a twisted individual with disturbing imagery and slow burning tension. It’s an acquired taste. Looking at Winterbottom’s back catalogue, he is no stranger to causing a fuss or shying away from gritty themes or controversy, and Killer inside me is no exception.
The Ghost
Post-Oscar season tends to be laden with breezy political thrillers like The Ghost, which is an interesting, albeit slightly unsatisfying drama-thriller. Aptly adapted by Roman Polanski and Robert Harris from his own novel, The Ghost is not political commentary; instead director Polanski concentrates on crafting a slow-burning mystery, stylishly unravelling the secrets of the Ex-Prime Minister.
Ex-Prime Minister Adam Lang (Pierce Brosnan) hires Ewan McGregor as the predecessor to his ghost writer, who has died under mysterious circumstances. Information has been leaked to the media that Adam is guilty of war crimes as McGregor is whisked away to a very rainy and gloomy island near New York to stay with Adam and finish his memoirs, whilst slowly discovering the clues his predecessor left behind.
Brosnan does not get enough screen time and when onscreen largely blows it, as if he is still recovering from Mamma Mia. Despite a shaky Londoner accent, McGregor is solid in the leading role, but he is a 2D character, he is there to get us from plot A to plot B. There are supporting turns from Kim Cattrall, channelling Samantha Jones with a British accent as Adam’s PA and Olivia Williams as his suffering wife who turns into a femme fatale half way through which is quickly forgotten about. Eli Wallach delivers the same cheeky cameo role as he did in Mystic River as ‘old kooky guy giving extra background information so the plot makes more sense to the main character/audience’. The ever-reliable Tom Wilkinson is a welcome addition further into the film as we delve more into Adam’s past.
Thankfully, despite the hefty 128 minutes running time, The Ghost never succumbs to being boring or slow. This is helped by any scene devoid of plot or dialogue, such as McGregor driving looking worried is accompanied by ‘tension’ music as well as characters sharing meaningful glances between themselves. The Ghost is twisty and enjoyable enough, but the revelations are never shocking or revealing enough, they incur more of a ‘oh OK’ reaction. The biggest attempt at a ‘gotcha’ moment ends up feeling slightly cheap.
The cinematography and location lend the film a much needed gritty and dark atmosphere. As a drama, the film succeeds; the script is intriguing and capably directed by Polanski. However, attracted by the promises of a thriller may be disappointed as unfortunately there is no sustained tension. For every exciting scene there is an obvious and clunky exposition scene. For example, the PA has not thrown out the possessions for the man who has mysteriously died and leaves McGregor to stumble across any important clues himself.
Despite its faults, The Ghost is competently made and certainly one of McGregor’s better thriller choices, leaving the ghastly Deception behind him. It is certainly an interesting and thought provoking way to spend two hours and a moderately successful addition to an ever-growing catalogue of thrillers based on popular crime novels.
Ex-Prime Minister Adam Lang (Pierce Brosnan) hires Ewan McGregor as the predecessor to his ghost writer, who has died under mysterious circumstances. Information has been leaked to the media that Adam is guilty of war crimes as McGregor is whisked away to a very rainy and gloomy island near New York to stay with Adam and finish his memoirs, whilst slowly discovering the clues his predecessor left behind.
Brosnan does not get enough screen time and when onscreen largely blows it, as if he is still recovering from Mamma Mia. Despite a shaky Londoner accent, McGregor is solid in the leading role, but he is a 2D character, he is there to get us from plot A to plot B. There are supporting turns from Kim Cattrall, channelling Samantha Jones with a British accent as Adam’s PA and Olivia Williams as his suffering wife who turns into a femme fatale half way through which is quickly forgotten about. Eli Wallach delivers the same cheeky cameo role as he did in Mystic River as ‘old kooky guy giving extra background information so the plot makes more sense to the main character/audience’. The ever-reliable Tom Wilkinson is a welcome addition further into the film as we delve more into Adam’s past.
Thankfully, despite the hefty 128 minutes running time, The Ghost never succumbs to being boring or slow. This is helped by any scene devoid of plot or dialogue, such as McGregor driving looking worried is accompanied by ‘tension’ music as well as characters sharing meaningful glances between themselves. The Ghost is twisty and enjoyable enough, but the revelations are never shocking or revealing enough, they incur more of a ‘oh OK’ reaction. The biggest attempt at a ‘gotcha’ moment ends up feeling slightly cheap.
The cinematography and location lend the film a much needed gritty and dark atmosphere. As a drama, the film succeeds; the script is intriguing and capably directed by Polanski. However, attracted by the promises of a thriller may be disappointed as unfortunately there is no sustained tension. For every exciting scene there is an obvious and clunky exposition scene. For example, the PA has not thrown out the possessions for the man who has mysteriously died and leaves McGregor to stumble across any important clues himself.
Despite its faults, The Ghost is competently made and certainly one of McGregor’s better thriller choices, leaving the ghastly Deception behind him. It is certainly an interesting and thought provoking way to spend two hours and a moderately successful addition to an ever-growing catalogue of thrillers based on popular crime novels.
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