The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel – does what it says on the tin but adds in a little bit extra

Posted on March 3, 2012 by

Should you take a trip to see The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel this weekend, it’s more than likely that you’ll know what to expect. When a selection of Britain’s most famous acting treasures, not to mention a couple of dames, are strategically placed amidst the sights, colours and smells of that most vibrant of countries, India, it’s a safe bet that you will enjoy fine acting, light, deft touches with some splendid seductive scenery. Comic moments are assured thanks to the culture shock but none are likely to offend. After all, you know that it’s very unlikely that the British ‘elderly and beautiful’ who have been removed from their comfort zone most brutally will be as racist at the end of the two hours as they are at the beginning of it.

Judi Dench (Evelyn), Tom Wilkinson (Graham), Bill Nighy (Douglas), Maggie Smith (Muriel), Ronald Pickup (Norman), Penelope Wilton (Jean – Douglas’ wife) and Celia Imrie (Madge) have been seduced by a brochure proclaiming the magisterial and domed raj splendour of the Best Exotic Marigold Hotel for the Elderly and Beautiful. Unfortunately, on their arrival, they discover that the hotel has been photoshopped beyond all recognition and reality by its young manager (and a third favourite son) Sonny (Dev Patel). But, as the new arrivals come to terms – or not – with the ‘quirks’ of their accommodation, they each learn something about themselves, each other and the nature of growing old. In India, age is revered and respected, in Britain, it’s inconvenient and can be lonely.

While some of the Brits search for friendship or independence, others are after something more immediate, whether it’s an old friend or a new hip. Sonny has his own battles to fight, in love with an unsuitable girl and with a rather intimidating mother. Not to mention a hotel that is falling down around him. But despite the ramshackle shape of the Marigold Hotel, most of the guests are soon discovering the India around them, meeting the locals, experiencing its culture, taboos, religion and its intense busyness.

Despite my cynicism and a slight unfamiliarity with being the youngest member of a cinema audience, I gave in to The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and allowed it to do its work. I particularly liked the film because, although it did give me what I expected and did it very well indeed, there were surprises, little shocks and moments of genuine feeling. It made me laugh repeatedly but it also made me do a fair bit of weeping. I can be a sentimental soul if the mood is right and The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel hits that mood perfectly. There are a couple of stories here that were much more captivating than I expected. Having them brilliantly acted certainly didn’t hurt.

I daresay none of the fine actors here had any trouble but I’m glad to say it did look like they put in the effort, complemented and buoyed up as that effort is by the charm and exuberance of Dev Patel. There is no doubt that India has had a bit of a sheen put on it, however the divisions and prejudice within Indian society are as evident here as they are among the Brits. I would have liked the relationship between Maggie Smith’s character with her doctor and the maid developed further but there were quite a few stories for the film to cover and more than one of them could have filled a movie on its own.

There is something very pleasing about cinema targeting a movie to a less targeted element of the population and the success of the film at the British box office is testament that an older audience is out there waiting, many of whom don’t sit and text through a movie.

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Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance

Posted on February 21, 2012 by

It is a source of great sorrow to me that I have yet to watch Ghost Rider I, the original fiery debut of Johnny Blaze, the soul-selling, skull-headed, fire-peeing, bike-riding ghoul from hell. Fortunately, this regret has been appeased tonight by Blaze’s resurrection in the theatres, thanks to Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance. There’s no time for dillying and dallying here – Johnny Blaze has the world to save, in the shape of a young boy fought over by the devil himself and some rather extreme heavily tattooed religious mountainous zealots. If Blaze can save the child from the devil then he might just save his own soul. Whether he really wants salvation or not is another matter.

Ghost Rider oozes fire. There isn’t a scrap of flesh on his bones. Instead of skin he wears scorched leather riding gear. His grin is like the fiery jaws of hell itself. He loves what he is and when Johnny Blaze transforms into this flaming avenger of evil he might fight it a little but he laughs as he changes.

This all works because the man doing the transforming, the gurning, the pithy one liners, the bike riding, the fire peeing, the vengeance wreaking is none other than Nicolas Cage, here at his bonkers best. If ever there’s a man that you can believe has sold his soul to the devil it’s Nic Cage and I mean that in the nicest possible way. No-one comes close.

Drive Angry was one of my films of 2011 (my review is here), a glorious, preposterous romp of a devil movie intensified by 3D, which also plays an unobtrusive and effective role here, at its best. Drive Angry, though, had an advantage over Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance – it was an 18 certificate. Every act or joke or twist of taste could be taken to its extreme, where it belonged. Ghost Rider is a disappointing 12A. It can only hint at what really goes on in the mind of Johnny Blaze. It isn’t pretty.

Nevertheless, there is much to enjoy here among the Turkish ruins. As well as Johnny himself, there is Ciarán Hinds as a baddie that we know could be badder if it weren’t for the certificate. There is also Johhny Whitworth as the rather unpleasantly mouldy Carrigan and Christopher Lambert as Methodius (a kind of Paul Bettany role). To add a bit of female interest there is Violante Placido as Nadya, the mother of the potentially evil boy (one must wonder about the father). There is also a script with more than its fair share of amusing Nic Cage throw away lines (something about wine and a salad for example). And then there’s the pounding soundtrack. Having David S. Goyer (The Dark Knight, Batman Begins, FlashForward, Blade, Mission to Mars) as writer and producer doesn’t hurt a bit.

Ghost Rider won’t challenge your brain cells but if you love Nic Cage in bonkers mode, enjoyed Drive Angry and wanted a bit more of that – but with bikes instead of supercars – then you will be very happy to spend some time laughing and grimacing at and with Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance. What’s not to like?

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Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close and really rather good

Posted on February 12, 2012 by

I’ve been purposefully avoiding all reviews and reports on Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, directed by Stephen Daldry (Billy Elliot), allowing myself to be guided into the cinema instead by a powerful and emotive trailer and a cast that cannot be ignored – Tom Hanks, Sandra Bullock, Max von Sydow, Viola Davis, Jeffrey Wright, John Goodman. And yet, this talented and charismatic bunch is there to support an unknown young actor, Thomas Horn, who may well tear your heart time after time after time. The fact that you know that the film sets out to do just that to you, to make you just about as vulnerable as you can be in a cinema seat, doesn’t make Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close any less powerful or intense.

Oskar Schell, a 9-year-old boy who has been inconclusively tested for Asperger Syndrome and carries a tambourine wherever he goes to calm himself, is obsessed with finding the lock that fits a key he has found in a vase in his father’s closet. This is the first time he has been in the closet since ‘the worst day’ a year ago, the day that Thomas Schell, Oskar’s father, was literally lost in the World Trade Center on 9/11. Oskar’s father (Tom Hanks) was an extraordinary dad who never talked to Oskar as if he were a child but set him a series of quests or expeditions, ostensibly to discover New York City’s legendary lost sixth borough but with the ulterior purpose of making the withdrawn Oskar talk to people and claim his environment.

The key is found in an envelope with ‘Black’ written on it and so Oskar sets out to locate and talk to everyone in the city with the surname Black. As he searches for the lock, desperately trying to keep his dad close, he is exposed to the stories of everyone he meets, including his grandmother’s silent lodger – The Renter (Max von Sydow) – who has his own secrets but almost in spite of himself starts to come along with Oskar on his quest. Meanwhile, Oskar’s mother (Sandra Bullock) has to deal with all of it.

It is true that Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close could have been extremely depressing and incredibly morbid. The opening distressing images do little to dispel this fear and there are other moments of such extreme intensity of grief, pain and hopelessness that were so difficult to watch, at least with dry eyes. But this is also a film about hope, loving families, kindness, exciting adventures and futures. The boy’s isolation, anger and sadness draws (almost) everyone he touches to him and as the film progresses a spider’s web of networks and connections forms across this great and damaged city of New York.

New York City itself is as much a character in EL&IC as Thomas Schell – both shape young Oskar and both give him the support he needs, even though it has left him in such a state that he cannot cope with watching people who stare upwards, and has given him a fear of planes, lifts, transportation, tears and much, much more. Oskar Schell fixes people. His relationship with The Renter (Max von Sydow) is particularly touching and, despite it all, humorous.

Thomas Horn is superb and although his character is designed to extract the greatest possible emotion from us it’s difficult not to fall for him. Sandra Bullock is almost unrecognisable and quiet. It is a very moving performance. But how I loved Tom Hanks as Thomas Schell, a man who knows how to make life the adventure it can be. After watching EL&IC I had this ridiculous need to watch another Tom Hanks movie just to know he was all right! This might be a good time to repost this link…

It’s quite possible that, as with most films, you need to be in the right frame of mind for Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close but I would argue that you’ll gain more than you lose if you give in to it.

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The Descendants – even paradise has its bugs

Posted on January 29, 2012 by

Although not having quite reached the dizzy heights of The Artist, and a little more surprisingly Hugo, The Descendants is electrifyingly pulsating with Oscar Fever. With five nominations, including best picture, best actor (George Clooney) and best director (Alexander Payne), it was with some trepidation then that I went to see The Descendants to see what all the fuss is about. That and because it’s set in Hawaii. It’s a good job that I still had the kitchen towel in my bag that I hadn’t needed with War Horse. With War Horse I had expected to mope a little but I hadn’t. I had no such expectations with The Descendants but by its end I looked as if I’d had my face washed with a big soggy mop.

The Descendants begins with the brief glimpse of a laughing, happy woman water skiing. The next minute we’re thrown into the world of her husband who is having to deal with a wife in a coma from which she is not expected to awake. Matt King is a busy lawyer who also has the responsibility of settling the future of the last of his family’s great land inheritance. Looking at his wife Elizabeth on her sickbed, he realises that he knows his wife almost as little as he knows his rebellious and troubled daughters Scottie aged 10 (Amara Miller) and Alex aged 17 (Shailene Woodley). He soon learns from Alex that his wife was having an affair and was about to leave him. As he tries to cope with this blow and meet the other man, it’s his daughters – and Alex’s surfing dude friend Sid (Nick Krause) – who rally around him and hold him together.

However, far from being sentimental or mawkish or melodramatic, The Descendants is a strong and confident tale told from Matt’s point of view. Matt is a loving man but he is a man who believes that a family’s troubles are private. He is surrounded by a circle of friends and cousins on every island but he keeps the truth from them, only permitting himself brief moments of rage and grief. As a result, they are all the more poignant and moving for it. As are the efforts of Alex to grow up and care for her dad and little sister. Even Sid has his uses (if only as a willing punchbag).

George Clooney is excellent but, to be honest, I didn’t think his name in this film was Matt King. It was George Clooney. Clooney is a fine actor but, for me, it’s more that he places George Clooney in different situations (and, in this case, in bright shirts). Here is George Clooney, the grieving and betrayed husband and the loving but flawed father. He does it brilliantly. Possibly this familiarity makes it all the more real and moving when he lets the feelings through.

Clooney isn’t alone in doing a great job. Amara Miller and Shailene Woodley as his two daughters are likewise good and it’s a jolt to the heart watching them come to terms with their situation. It’s also a pleasure to see Judy Greer and Beau Bridges (doesn’t he sound like his brother?).

It’s not all doom and gloom. Despite the subject matter, their are moments of real levity in the script and I was surprised how much I laughed. The scenery helps, as does the music which complements the story and setting perfectly.

I would argue that it’s not just George Clooney who merits a best actor nomination. The islands of Hawaii do a good job themselves of winning over the viewer, with their skies, stormy and sunny by turn, those white beaches and palm trees, the proud and strong local Hawaiians, the blue rough seas, its mixed cultural history, the ancestors, the descendants and the sounds of surf and song.

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Carnage unleashed

Posted on January 22, 2012 by

When 11 year old Zachary Cowan hit classmate Ethan Longstreet round the head with a stick, he can have had little idea of the monster he had unleashed.

Two sets of parents meet in the Longstreet’s New York City apartment to discuss the incident between their sons as civilised and decent human beings. Tulips have been bought, something called a cobbler has been baked and reason itself reigns as they decide by mutual agreement that Zachary was not ‘armed’ with a stick, he was simply ‘carrying’ a stick. And then all hell breaks loose.

The problem is that all four people hate each other, not just the opposing set of parents but also the opposing partners. Africa-loving, art-hugging Penelope Longstreet (Jodie Foster) has married a pots and pans salesman, Michael (John C Reilly) whom, we learn, has just murdered his kids’ pet hamster. The reason being that ‘he hates those things’. Meanwhile polished and preened Nancy Cowan (Kate Winslet) is wed to lawyer Alan (Christoph Waltz), a complete smartarse whose ear is hermetically sealed to his Blackberry. As the parents discuss the possible reasons for the fight between their sons, the repercussions and the ways to resolve the animosity between the boys, it soon becomes painfully apparent that if these four adults had sticks they’d be swinging them at each others’ heads in a jiffy.

All the situation needs is a catalyst for the God of Carnage to be let loose and peaceful serenity battered to death. This catalyst is provided by the cobbler which makes Nancy throw up all over Penelope’s beloved artbooks in a scene that also breaks the ice in the cinema. The shock and laughter that the audience feels at this spectacular scene means that from then on we are cheering along each of the four protagonists as they take it in turns to triumph with insults. It doesn’t help that Michael produces an 18-year-old single malt. With all four stroppy and now drunk as well, not even the tulips imported directly from Holland are safe, as we see man vs man, woman vs woman, husband vs wife and man vs woman in a succession of bloody and hilarious bouts. At times, Nancy and Alan almost leave the apartment but they just can’t manage it.

The film, based on the play God of Carnage by Yasmina Reza and directed by Roman Polanski, entirely takes place within the apartment (bar the opening and closing scenes) and the film depends solely on the talent and chemistry of its four actors, two of whom also have to pull off believable American accents. Christoph Waltz has by far the best one-liners but it would be difficult to choose a winner from amongst these four. The to-and-fro of the arguments, interlaced with niceties (John C Reilly spends a considerable amount of the film trying to dry things with a hairdryer) and hysteria, allows each to shine but my money would be on Jodie Foster. However much she tries to hang on to the veneer of culture, once she’s had a drink or two, you know she’s not too many steps away from killing her hamster-hating husband.

I was surprised to find that these eighty minutes of four people arguing and trying not to argue all at the same time were extremely entertaining, not least because here are four actors who know exactly what they’re doing. It is hugely enjoyable to watch such talented actors working with a funny, clever and generous script. Certainly, by the end of the eighty minutes, the stick incident seems like a piece of cake by comparison with what their parents would like to do to one another.

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War Horse – Black Beauty enlists…

Posted on January 16, 2012 by

Ever since Close Encounters of the Third Kind and Jaws, two of the first films I ever saw in the cinema, I have been happy to grow up to, or stay a child with, Stephen Spielberg’s films. Spielberg has explored both the fluffy and the horrific and with both I have felt that I was in safe hands. For possibly the first time, War Horse gave me a moment’s worry. I have never enjoyed non-animation films based on animal stories (Tarka The Otter Syndrome I call it) because they give me the suspicion that I am being manipulated to feel a sentiment that the animal is unlikely to share. Nevertheless, this is Spielberg and so I pushed my qualms to one side and headed into the cinema with a roll of kitchen towel.

My plan was to do a tear count but I’m afraid to say that this was completely unnecessary. Not a tear fell from my eyes. As someone who cries at more films than films I don’t cry at, this was a surprise, especially considering the state of some of the people around me, but there it is. I was worried I would be immune to War Horse and I was. The problem was apparent from the very first minute of the film. Idyllic Devon countryside, blurry edges, pretty cottages with a bit of muck, nasty landlords, put upon drinking yokels, supportive wife, ageing before her time, and a boy with dreams feeding apples to a foal in a field. It felt like I was back in Shire and if a hobbit or two had walked across the screen I wouldn’t have been surprised.

War Horse is the story of Joey, a young thoroughbred horse with the heart of a lion. Unsuited to life as a farm workhorse, Joey works with Albert (Jeremy Irvine) to save the farm from seizure but when the harvest fails at the moment when the Great War breaks out, Albert’s father (Peter Mullan) has no option but to sell the horse into the cavalry as the mount of Captain Nichols (Tom Hidddleston). From then on, we follow Joey through his war years, as he moves from owner to owner, English, German and French, and through each act we see the increasing horror of this war. And it really is horrific, just as Spielberg can do so starkly and brilliantly (Saving Private Ryan, Schindler’s List).

The presentation of the war, notably the scenes on the Somme, are hard to get out of the mind. The small child in front of me in the cinema was distressed and her mother tried to shield her eyes. What looked like an episode of Black Beauty at the beginning had turned into the stuff of nightmares and I wondered if the two went together. But I found the message too laboured – English and German soldiers working together in No Man’s Land to save a horse. I also found the characters all too two dimensional. Their purpose was to show how wonderful the horse was and for this end my interest in their stories was sacrificed.

Nevertheless, despite the fact that I am clearly and sadly immune to films about horses, there was a lot here that I enjoyed and for a film that was well over two hours long the time passed very quickly. If I hadn’t have had a roll of kitchen towel in my bag and hadn’t have been so conscious that it was unneeded, I would have put more heart into it. War Horse is beautifully put together and there are moments of staggering heroism only matched by the sheer stupidity of what these men faced. Horses and swords against tanks, machine guns and gas. War has changed since the one fought by Albert’s father. Bravery, courage, pride, honour, these are all themes as people run headlong into the bullets.

The photography was matched by some excellent acting – Tom Hiddleston, Niels Arelstrup, Benedict Cumberbatch, Emily Watson to name just four.

I was affected by War Horse more in retrospect and I think it could be one of those growers as time passes. I think if it had lost a good half hour and had cut some of the sepia-tinged linear tale of the the early years of the horse, right from the moment of its birth, I would have been more susceptible to its sentiment and less inclined to separate the war story from the horse story. Those scenes on the Somme are going to stay with me for quite a while, although not for the horse caught in the middle but for the men in the rat-filled trenches.

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Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol – is Bond outbonded?

Posted on January 11, 2012 by

Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol (aka MI4) was a big surprise to me. Having found the first Mission Impossible film pompous and the two sequels unwatchable, I saw the fourth on the strength of its enthusiastic reception. Thank heavens for that. Far from taking itself too seriously, Ghost Protocol is a thoroughly enjoyable action thriller that pulls in every tool it can to add excitement and humour, whether it’s Simon Pegg, extraordinary stunts, gobsmacking locations, clever gadgets, a brave lead, characters to love and laugh at, and a plot straight out of the good old days of the Cold War. In fact, if I didn’t know better I’d say that here was a film doing all it can to outbond Bond.

Could it be that the grittiness and reality of the Daniel Craig Bonds has allowed space for a cheeky usurper?

The plot of MI4 is not important. Something to do with the Mission Impossible team having to clear its name for the bombing of the Kremlin and discovering the reasons for the murder of its agent. The crime against the Kremlin is so large that all support for the secret agency that likes to blow up phones is lost and the Ghost Protocol takes effect. Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise) and his crew (Paula Patton, Simon Pegg, Jeremy Renner) are on their own.

At the heart of MI4 is Tom Cruise and from start to finish Cruise excels in a role that he revels in. He has become Ethan Hunt. There isn’t a stunt here – not even scaling the outside of tallest building in the world – that Cruise can’t make you feel he would do. There isn’t a jump he couldn’t make, not a fight he couldn’t win and not a disguise you wouldn’t believe in. Wrap that up with ridiculously brilliant gadgets, masks, sensational locations, edge of the seat infiltration of hostile establishments, handsome actors, beautiful actresses, diamonds, cocktail parties and trains, and you have the recipe for a fantastic couple of hours of entertainment.

There are too many moments to pick out but the scenes in Dubai, with its spacescrapers and sandstorms, are so memorable that I want to see the film again to appreciate them for the second time. Even more miraculously, the plot and action don’t play second fiddle to the set pieces or locations. There are twists and turns of the tongue and camera that amaze and make the characters and story worthy of the fantastic stunts and the wonderful scenery. What with the glamorous locations and non-American actors such as Simon Pegg, there is a multinational appeal to MI4 and it has its tongue firmly in cheek while doing its very best to entertain its audiences.

MI4 achieves just what it sets out to do and, as a result, I think Skyfall, the next Bond film, is going to have to try much harder.

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The Artist – silent and golden: a big shiny sun among movies

Posted on January 9, 2012 by

The Artist is one of those movies that seems to have been around for quite a while, making its way around the film festivals, attracting praise and acclaim. Finally, it has reached our screens (or, at least, some of them), giving us the chance to discover for ourselves if this unusual film really is as good as most critics say it is or if they’re just saying that because everyone else is saying it. A modern silent picture made in black and white – a gimmick that grows tired or a cinematic revelation? I am extremely relieved and delighted to report that from the moment the music started and the film began, right until the curtain closed – sadly only figuratively – I was captivated and enchanted.

While a gimmick will generally entertain for no longer than a comedy sketch, The Artist succeeds and more because it uses what is unusual to our modern senses – black and white moving images, silent talking lips, exaggerated gestures, emotive music, grand drama – to complement a wonderful story, bringing it sharply into focus and instilling it with the radiance and grandeur of a bygone age. The Artist is above all else a love story.

Beginning in Hollywood in 1927, The Artist introduces silent movie star George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) to Peppy Miller (Bérénice Bejo), a young, vibrant, exciting dancer who is about to make her big break in the world of the talkies. It’s not too long before Valentin, along with his dog, finds himself obsolete. ‘No-one wants to see me speak’, he mouths. Yet as his star dips and he declines, Valentin’s guardian angel is never too far away. That is the beauty and charm of The Artist – Valentin and Peppy are such sympathetic and vibrant characters, full of life and humour, whatever the fates throw at them, that they are impossible not to love. Of course, the credit for this belongs to the charismatic and attractive actors who light up the silent, black and white screen with their smiles. Without the distraction of colour or words, the focus is on the faces.

The film may be silent but a principal theme is sound. Encapsulating that perfectly is a dream sequence that took my breath away and that of much of the audience I saw this film with. There were audible intakes of breath, shocked smiles and wonder. I don’t want to describe it any more. You must see it for yourself on the screen or on the DVD. But it did bring home to me the intimacy almost of this film screening. Without the ‘noise’, our senses were keen. All credit indeed to director Michel Hazanavicius for directing our attention and our sympathies with such skill.

The Artist is visually a stunner. It looks tremendous, especially evocative of a past age because we see it in the same way that movies of its time portrayed it. The leads are hugely charismatic and beautiful and the supporting actors (notably John Goodman and James Cromwell) are superb – expert. It was also a pleasure to spot the familiar faces of Beth Grant and Malcolm McDowell.

As a lover of cinema, it’s very difficult to find anything to dislike or fault about The Artist. It has the old wonder of silver Hollywood about it but it also feels new and clever with what looks like little effort. The film is French but it is borderless, with no audible language or language barrier.

I left the cinema with a smile on my lips and with my aversion to tapdancing greatly reduced, very ready to head back in and enjoy The Artist all over again.

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The Iron Lady – and I needed nerves of steel to watch it…

Posted on January 7, 2012 by

Against all better judgement, and largely because of a sincere appreciation for the work of Meryl Streep, today I saw The Iron Lady. My instinct was right on both counts.

The emphasis throughout The Iron Lady is on the older Thatcher as she may be today, struggling behind closed doors to retain her clarity of mind and talking to a husband who died eight years before. It is possible that director Phyllida Lloyd believes that the only way to get an audience is to make Thatcher a sympathetic character and to do that she needs to focus on speculative frailty and weaknesses, as if that somehow excuses those eleven long years. It doesn’t work. The film reminds us throughout that Thatcher constantly kept her husband and children at bay and was as unable to relate to them as she was to her colleagues in the Cabinet and to the ordinary man and woman on the street. She might have known the price of Lurpak in the shops but she never grasped the human cost of her unilateral decisions or why such a slice of the population rallied and held her personally responsible for the Poll Tax.

Through a series of flashbacks, we see snippets of Thatcher’s progression to power and little glimpses of her life with businessman Denis (Jim Broadbent) and her young twins Carol and Mark. While the former is a personal success story, the latter is not. One scene shows her small children running after her car, in a last attempt to claim some attention. She sweeps their toys from the passenger seat into the glovebox. There are moments of wit in the script, largely at the expense of Thatcher’s colleagues, but these are let down by the drudgery and the monotony of the tedious scenes with the phantom, bumbling Denis. The consequences of Thatcher’s political career and the major events of the day are shown in news film clips from the time – riots, strikes, IRA atrocities, the Falklands. This makes it much easier for Lloyd to brush over the politics while the scenes with Denis makes The Iron Lady dull.

Throughout the film, Thatcher reminds us that she has had to fight every single day of her life and, indeed, one can’t underestimate the misogyny and bullying that she endured. However, once she was in power she surrounded herself with a notoriously weak Cabinet that she herself bullied until it finally snapped. It’s interesting trying to recognise Howe, Hurd, Heseltine and others (I failed to spot Thatcher’s rottweiler Tebbit) but you’d be hardpressed to find anyone remotely likeable in this film. Those honours are reserved for Airey Neave (Nicholas Farrell), who is here shown trying to mould Thatcher, but is better known to history for escaping from Colditz and for his murder at the hands of the IRA in the House of Commons car park.

Is Margaret Thatcher a good subject for a movie? It seems to me that one’s opinion will inevitably be tied to one’s political biases, at least in the UK, but The Iron Lady fails because it tries to sail a middle course – reminding us of the bad while trying to compensate for them with the weak. However, the film clips speak for themselves. The moment when Thatcher agrees to sink the Belgrano – even though it was sailing away from the Falkland Islands – and we see a missile strike, I actually felt ill. Likewise, the images of the Poll Tax riot with horses riding over protesters.

And yet the fundamental reason why these clips spoke more to me than any clever exchanges between Thatcher and her cronies is because I remember them happening. I marched in the Poll Tax protest, my grandfather was one of the leaders of the miners, I remember rubbish on the streets, teachers, firemen, ambulance crews all striking, the inflation and the millions jobless. I recall the leaflets through the door telling us how to construct a makeshift nuclear bomb shelter and I had sleepless nights thanks to reading about the crews burning on sinking ships in the Falklands. I was politicised by Margaret Thatcher. That is a big problem with The Iron Lady – you either remember the events and have strong personal feelings for or against Thatcher or you don’t and you won’t learn much about them here.

In one scene a woman goes down on her knees before an infirm Thatcher after a dinner party to tell her what an inspiration she was to women – if I’d have been drinking at the time I would have spat it out.

Movies are mighty beasts – they have the power to sway opinion, fiddle with history or even to rewrite it. Watching The Iron Lady, this worried me. I worried about audiences too young to remember Margaret Thatcher, or audiences abroad that may only recall the images of Thatcher posing with Reagan, Gorbachev and other world leaders. I also couldn’t help wondering what Thatcher herself would think of it. I doubt she’d like it any more than me.

What you will see is another fine performance by Meryl Streep. But, whether you’re red or you’re blue, that doesn’t make The Iron Lady a good film.

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Movies 2011 – the fabulous, the less good and the downright horrible – and worse

Posted on December 31, 2011 by

In 2011 I saw approximately 70 movies at the cinema. Obviously, I would have seen many more if it weren’t for cinema prices and the fact that teens and certain other people are allowed in theatres without being gagged or their phones taken off them but, nevertheless, not too shabby. And so, with the kind of inevitability that marks the passing of one year into another, and with the added inspiration of a birthday full of bubbly, here is my list of the pretty and the ugly for 2011. What follows is in no strict order, except for the Number Ones, which are indisputable and set in granite.

Top 10 Crackers

10. Morning Glory
If ever there was a film to make me leave the cinema with a skip in my step and a grin on my face it was Morning Glory. Watching Harrison Ford and Diane Keaton spar was a joy to behold. There’s a good chance that I’ve seen this film more than any other in 2011, partly because the hubby is as hooked on it as I am. Review.

9. Troll Hunter
This is what found footage movies should be all about. Low-budget, atmospheric and slightly cheeky peeks in to what makes our hearts beat. In this case, it was fear and thrill at the sight of trolls chomping though the mountains and forests of Norway. Review.

8. Tangled
I haven’t been a huge fan of 3D in 2011 but Tangled was one of the films that showed me how it could be done. Apart from the humour, which was very funny, and the beauty of the animations, which were very beautiful, stick me in front of the scene with floating lanterns and I’ll be sobbing for weeks. Review.

7. In Time
My weakness for science fiction meant that I was keen on this one before I even saw it. What a premise! Fortunately, I was not disappointed in the least with the cast and the pace keeping up with the great storyline. Review.

6. Life in a Day
There have been some wonderful documentaries in 2011, this film, though, wasn’t as much a documentary as an impression of life in all its colours, places and timezones. I sat enraptured and I wept as much as I smiled. I’ll not forget the evening I saw Life in a Day in a hurry. Review.

5. Rise of the Planet of the Apes
I saw this film originally in disturbing circumstances – in the presence of Andy Serkis, during the London riots and interrupted by a powercut. Nevertheless, this refreshing reworking of a franchise I never much cared for is wonderfully emotional and moving. Review.

4. Source Code
Matching Duncan Jones together with Jake Gyllenhaal is a guaranteed way to get me in to see a film time after time after time, in fact every eight minutes. Review.

3. True Grit
If ever there was a film to jumpstart my long stagnant love of the western, it was True Grit. The film even made me appreciate Matt Damon, a feat in itself. Review.

2. Rango
2011 was the year of the animation for me, with the cartoon far outshining the blockbuster. Without doubt, the winning animation of the year was the most perfect and hysterical and splendid Rango! Review.

1. Melancholia
I knew from the moment the film ended that Melancholia was my film for 2011. Beautifully acted and exquisitely filmed, Melancholia spoke to the part of me that loves science fiction, possibly above all else in imagination, but more than that the deeper part that understands a portrayal of the human condition when it sees it. With music to match and moments of pure horror and beauty, Melancholia was a film that kept me awake for nights and will stay with me for far longer than any other film from 2011. Review.

Honourable mentions
Drive Angry
Super 8
Arthur Christmas
Kung Fu Panda 2
Life in the Material World
Senna
TT3D
Thor
The Extraordinary Adventures of Adele Blanc-Sec
X-Men: First Class
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2
127 Hours
Midnight in Paris
Sherlock Holmes 2

The ugly films of 2011

11. Hanna
After quite a build up, this was extremely disappointing and had more plot holes than a leaky bucket. Why press the button? Review.

10. Wuthering Heights
Perhaps it isn’t fair for me to include this on the list of turkeys because I didn’t see the whole film. Nevertheless, I did walk out after five minutes so that wouldn’t earn it many points for my worth seeing list.

9. Horrible Bosses
Another film that was so bad, I couldn’t make it to reviewing stage. Most of the time I just sat and held my head wishing Colin Farrell weren’t in a fatsuit and Jennifer Aniston could get back to movies with dying dogs.

8. How Do You Know
Take a bunch of actors with some skill and charisma, stick them together and eradicate that chemistry, and you have How Do You Know. And, where on earth is the question mark…? Review.

7. Transformers 3
In a way, I shouldn’t blame Transformers 3. I hadn’t liked the other two after all. However, I’d been promised great things thanks to a superb trailer (the Tron: Legacy Syndrome) but – and why was this so disappointing? – that was it. The rest of it was so loud, blurry and manic that my head exploded. Review.

6. Take Shelter
I was so disappointed with Take Shelter. It could have been so interesting and worthwhile. Instead, it had no idea what it was and where to aim. I felt cross, never a good sign. Review.

5. Hereafter
One of the things that I really find unforgivable with the movies is when I think they’re going to be good and then they pull the carpet out from under my feet. Hereafter was one of those. There is more substance in a tube of toothpaste. Review.

4. Priest
Someone needs to rescue Paul Bettany from himself and stop him from inflicting his body with crosses, lashings and tattoos. Review.

3. Apollo 18
Never before have I been so glad to regret catching a film at the cinema than with Apollo 18. Alien rocks? C’mon! Review.

2. Sucker Punch
Diabolical toxic sludge. Or, to rephrase, diabolical toxic sludge. The only reason it isn’t number 1 on my hate list is because I enjoyed parts of the soundtrack. It isn’t healthy for me to repeat why I disliked Sucker Punch so much, so take a look at the Review, while I lie in a darkened room.

1. Tree of Life
When this exercise in self-indulgence finished – after what felt like several circles of the sun – I heard someone complain to their near unconscious partner that they had lost a significant part of their life that they would never recover. I knew just how they felt. I don’t need plot but I do need purpose. Watching this, I also needed a good nudge, at least once every five minutes. Review.

All in all, a rather good year I think, with a mix of moods, genres and budgets. There are some goodies to come so please do drop by as we go through 2012 and make sure I don’t miss the things I should and do miss the things I shouldn’t.

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