Constructive Commentary

“Seeking A Friend For The End Of The World” is a curious little film. Part black comedy, part road movie, but mostly romantic comedy, it manages to perfectly balance the three genres and become something greater than the sum of it’s parts.

With a concept as high as “the end of the world is nigh, and everyone’s going to die”, the film lives or dies on it’s lead actor’s performances: fortunately Steve Carell and Keira Knightly, particularly Carell, more than match the film’s dizzyingly high central conceit. The script, written by Lorene Scafaria, has a big part to play in this: while lesser writer/directors would shift the focus onto the larger picture, Scafaria shows us the other side of the end of the world. There are no tense Presidential discussions in the West Wing, no rag tag team of chancers on a do or die mission to save the world: instead we hear a radio broadcast announcing the failed final attempt to destroy the asteroid headed to Earth and see two very different reactions to the news. Carell sits in his car, dumbstruck, his wife silently leaves the parked car and runs away. This very much sets the tone of the entire film, tragic and funny, albeit uncomfortably so, but never overwrought or heavy handed.

There is a slight pacing issue, the road trip elements of the film take a little longer than expected to kick in, meaning the overall road trip is little more than several vignettes charting the different reactions and coping mechanisms of a world on the brink of an Apocalypse. But that doesn’t really matter, because the love story of Carell and Knightly is the focus, with incremental reveals of character drawing these two distant individuals closer and closer together until it becomes clear they’re perfect for each other.

For Carell, “Seeking A Friend For The End Of The World” is another attempt to elevate himself above comedic male lead, it’s something that began with “Crazy, Stupid, Love” and his later season arcs on “The Office”, with Carell proving that for those who’ve mastered comedy, drama is a walk in the park. And “SAFFTEOTW” is the climactic revelation, the film is to Carell what “Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind” was to Jim Carrey. He manages to carry the entire film, taking lines most would deliver as just another moment of dialogue and making them something else. The central relationship is predicated on Carell’s promise to Knightly of a plane she can use to see her family one last time, provided she helps him find the one that got away: but there are multiple moments where we begin to wonder whether it’s all just a lie, a manipulation to get what he wants. It casts Carell’s character in a light most leading men would be hesitant to accept, especially as Knightly and Carell gradually shift from acquaintances, to friends, to lovers.

Which is not to say Carell deserves all the praise. Knightly gives one of her best performances, carrying off the thankless task of being the “quirky female” without ever becoming the adolescent fantasy. She’s neurotic, smokes weed because she can’t wake up or fall asleep without it (a nicely planted character quirk for a later plot development) loves vinyl and is incapable of being alone. She’s the antithesis of Carell’s insurance salesman, but the disparity between the two characters never defines their relationship, instead Carell and Knightly discover the little things they like about each other, preventing the burgeoning romance from feeling false or forced. 

While Carell and Knightly do most of the heavy lifting, the world they travel through is inhabited by a cast of individuals that show us glimpses of the larger world. Gillian Jacobs shines as a waitress in a restaurant that’s accepted the end and descended into an accepting, hedonistic, never ending party; psychotically happy she steals the scenes she’s in and upstages everyone else without ever taking it too far. And then there’s William Petersen, the menacing to the point of borderline villainous trucker who’s really just a scared, lonely man waiting for the end, Rob Cordry as Carell’s best friend, willing to get children drunk and do whatever he wants while his wife, played by Connie Britton just tries to make the most of it all.

The script’s funny, moving and effecting without ever dwelling on the fact this is a film where nobody lives, let alone doing so happily ever after. Every character, no matter the size of their part, gets an arc, a moment to shine; and while some of them are the slightest of victories, each of them feels valid and deserved. "Seeking A Friend For The End Of The World" is a hard sell, the humour will put many people off, not because it’s offensive or particularly dark, but because the juxtaposition that’s rife throughout the film isn’t for everyone. But for those who can deal with the perfectly balanced, yet conflicting tone, there’s someone’s new favourite film.

The comparisons are inevitable, so let’s get them out of the way. The Sam Rami trilogy of Spider-man films (alright, just the first two) are almost universally lauded as the pinnacle of super hero movies; and while this is true, there’s one thing that they aren’t. Good Spider-Man films. Toby Maguire wasn’t a good Peter Parker, Kirsten Dunst was forgetable as the red headed bombshell that launched a thousand young fanboy’s obsession with red heads, and James Franco was middling as Harry Osborn. It was the villains of the movies that had all the fun, often there was more focus on them and their tragic origins than the attempts of Peter dealing with the ol’ Parker luck. 

Which is why The Amazing Spider-Man is such a refreshing, exhilarating return to the silver screen for the hero that launched the Super Hero genre to the heights it currently enjoys.

The suitably named Marc Webber delivers a film that focuses on Peter Parker, taking his origin and combining it with the film’s larger story in a way that feels organic: the tales of Peter Parker and Doctor Curt Connors run parallel with each other, then intersect, but never in a way that feels forced or elicits eye rolls from the more savvy, self aware film fans that seem to populate the audience of films such as this one. There is a downside to this though, as a character Connors, The Lizard, is a tad two dimensional: we understand how he becomes The Lizard, but the why isn’t as well defined as he deserves. Connors lost his arm and wants to use cross species genetics to grow a new one. There’s a passing mention of him wanting to create a new race of genetically superior post humans, with the suggestion that Connors has felt excluded and alone hence his wanting to create a new super species that he’ll belong to, but it’s mentioned too briefly to be considered anything other than the leftovers of a sub plot left on the cutting room floor. And yet Rhys Ifans manages to inhabit the role perfectly, doing the best with what he’s given and elevating the character past mustache twirling villain. 

Fortunately that’s the film’s biggest flaw/plot hole. There are other little things, brief mentions of moments or ideas that fall flat instead of teasing a larger mythology, but for the most part we’re treated to an enjoyable new take on the Spider-Man mythos. There is a single moment that’s considerably lacking the emotional heft it deserves, a scene that’s deeply ingrained in even the most fair weathered fanboy’s mind: “With great power, comes great responsibility” is an integral part of Peter Parker’s transition from spider powered teenager to everyone’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, unfortunately these words are never spoken. Instead we get a paraphrased version of Uncle Ben’s famous last words, and while they get the message across, it feels like one particular moment where the film tried too hard to distance itself from the Rami movies. But even before that cackhanded version of wisdom Spidey fans the world over live by, we see Peter Parker already embodies that particular teaching, standing up for the little guy and taking a beating for it, which would have been all we needed to see. The inclusion of Uncle Ben trying to impart his words of wisdom weren’t necessary, by that point we already understand Peter’s the good guy: Uncle Ben could have died without ever imparting those famous last words, he dies looking for Peter, at the hands of someone Peter had the chance to stop. That alone would have been enough to justify Peter’s eventual decision to don the red and blue tights; as Uncle Ben dies, Andrew Garfield delivers an anguished performance that tells us everything we need to know about his relationship with his Uncle and what this loss means without uttering a single word.

And from there, Garfield’s performance as Peter Parker and Spider-Man just soars higher and higher. There’s never a moment of doubt that Garfield’s talk of just how important the character is to him is anything but genuine, he gives an assured, well rounded performance that’s perfect Peter Parker. And the same can be said for his take on Spider-Man: the script helps, Spidey’s funny in a way the Rami version never was, and even underneath a spandex body condom, Garfield manages to emote in a way Tobey Maguire never did, but the standout moments are ones of silence. Garfield holds himself in a way that shows great awareness, his poses are ripped straight out of the comics, dramatic without ever seeming forced or labored. 

The same can be said for the relationship between Gwen and Peter, they meet and talk and clearly have an established history, but it never feels like they’re becoming a couple because the script says so, Garfield and Stone are an adorable couple, so much so that you accept they like each other. Emma Stone is largely responsible for this, from the moment you see her it’s perfectly understandable why Peter gets giggly over her, she exudes confidence and perfectly walks the line between funny and intelligent and adolescent fantasy. And unlike past girlfriends of Spider-Man (i’m looking at you Kirsten Dunst) Gwen is never the damsel in distress, she gets in on the action, willingly puts herself in the line of fire and gets herself out of trouble again. Yes, she shrieks in true scream queen fashion when The Lizard attacks, but the very next beat is her fending off The Lizard with a makeshift flamethrower. 

There’s an emotional depth to these characters that the original Spider-Man films never reached, and while the closing scenes of the film could have been heavy handed and over wrought, the tragedy of everything that’s happened further develops the cast and contributes to the film’s overall theme. Heroism. Peter and Gwen both understand the cost of their choices, and while they ultimately decide to ignore the possible consequences of their actions, it never comes across as flippant or childish, just willing to accept the risks they’re choosing to take.

None of this should be surprising to anyone who saw Webber’s last film 500 Days of Summer, what does come as a surprise is how deftly he directs the action sequences: we get a Spider-Man fighting style we haven’t seen on screen before, he leaps and bounds with an improvised, occasionally clumsy grace. During The Lizard’s attack on Midtown High, Peter climbs on The Lizard’s back and delivers a flurry of punches, a move straight out of the comics: the entire fight is goofy grin inducing, as are the scenes of web swinging across the city, that rely on physical stunt men instead of digital, overly bendy Spider-Man stand ins past films have suffered from.

But when the CGI Spider-Man is used, it works, occasionally the camera moves too much, making it difficult to make out what’s happening, but maybe that’s just the grumpy old man in me coming out. The only other CGI issue is The Lizard: for the most part he has a real sense of physicality, better yet The Lizard seems like a character, not just a poorly rendered punching bag. But there are several instances where The Lizard’s lip movements seem off, not out of sync, just wrong; it’s probably more to do with human features being applied to an inhuman entity than poor animation work, but it does occasionally distract from an other wise compelling, conflicted villain that succeeds more than fails.

So, The Amazing Spider-Man. Astonishing? Sensational? Spectacular? With a cast that perfectly embodies their roles, action sequences that excite and enthrall and a script that’s funny, emotional and perfectly paced, The Amazing Spider-Man is aptly named.

The Dark Knight Rises is an enjoyable film. But it’s also a flawed one. There are moments we hoped for, others we expected, and there’s even a couple of cameos from the past movies, one of which hints at what could have been had there been a little more focus on the occupation of Gotham, but more on that later. And while there’s plenty of spectacle, character moments (Michael Cane broke my heart and Anne Hathaway stole it) and snappy dialogue, there’s an overall sense that the film is never quite what it wants to be. 

Rises is a film of two halves, and this wouldn’t have been a problem if the two acts of the story had a little more cohesion. Another problem is how the film begins, effectively having to conceive of an second origin for The Batman and reintroduce him to Nolan’s vision of Gotham. It ties into the ending of The Dark Knight, unfortunately we get little more than a few scenes of exposition to fill us in on the seven years since Harvey Dent died and Batman became the hero Gotham needs, not the one it deserves. But then we meet Selina Kyle and everything picks up momentarily.

Anne Hathaway visible transforms from meek serving girl to sexy, confident and heart-skipping-a-beat-inducing Selina Kyle before your eyes, a moment that brought an immediate smile to me face. Hathaway’s performance is pitch perfect, portraying everyone’s favourite cat burglar faithfully and believably: charismatic without ever pandering, sexy without ever being exploitative, Hathaway has a real old cinema aura to her, stunning and attention grabbing. Which is a real shame, because she’s criminally underused. 

While I’m touching on performances, Michael Cane needs to be mentioned. It’s strange, but in a film with such a phenomenal cast (I have a lot of time for Joseph Gordon-Levit and Gary Oldman) Cane steals the film. Stranger still, he has very little screen time, but every second of it is heart in your mouth sad or tingling in your extremities joyful. Cane is very much the emotional center of the film, which is a strength and a weakness, because every other character deserves to have their moment, yet never quite gets it. 

Which brings me to Tom Hardy. Bane is a force to be reckoned with, the unstoppable force to Batman’s immovable object. Or so we’re told. Hardy is a phenomenal actor, be it he’s a bit part in Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy or carrying a film in Bronson, Hardy is much more than someone willing to physically change themselves for a tole. Unfortunately, the Bane we see on screen is only a step or two away from the nightmare-inducing-in-all-the-wrong-ways Bane from Batman and Robin. He has an agenda, one tied into the world’s greater worries and fears of economic collapse and social upheaval, but Hardy never has the chance to portray Bane as anything other than muscle following orders. 

The Dark Knight Rises was pitched to us all as the fight for Gotham. And that is very much the second half of the film, but because of an ultimatum that lacks any real logic, we see a condensed version of the occupation of Gotham. For those familiar with the comics, Rises borrows a lot from No Mans Land, but Bane’s occupation of the city is little more than a backdrop and narrative tool to show the passing of time as Bruce, broken after an anti-climactic battle with Bane, recovers and rises, figuratively and literally. Because of this focus on Bruce, we see a greatest hits package of the Gotham Resistance movement, which prevents us from getting overly invested in the struggle of Jim Gordon and John Blake. 

And then The Dark Knight Rises, returns to Gotham and assembles an army of his own. If this sounds familiar to The Dark Knight Returns comic book, that’s because it does, unfortunately it borrows the basic premise and loses any of the bigger, more exciting moments. The final battle for Gotham is a little by the numbers, both sides assemble and stare each other down, the opening shots are fired and it all kicks off. Batman battles Bane, in a second fist fight that is little more than two men punching each other in the face, lacking any real drama or excitement. There’s a final twist that never quite manages to be a twist, it tries to tie back into the first act of Batman Begins, with Nolan using the idea of “theatricality and deception” Ras Al Ghul taught Bruce to fuck with both us and Bruce. Without spoiling anything, we see two versions of the truth, the second revealed to the be truth moments after a quite literal bout of back stabbing.

And then the film ends. All the loose ends are tied up, a couple of moments are left as knowing, yet pointless, nods to the audience, but there’s no real payoff to the trilogy. From the beginning Bruce has talked about life after The Batman just as much as he’s presented the idea of The Batman being more than a man that can die, but a legend that can live. And for about thirty seconds it seems that idea is going to be very literal, with the death of the man and the rise of the legend. But it doesn’t, at least not in a way that’s ever shown, just vaguely suggested enough to have most of the audience waiting till the end of the credits to see an epilogue featuring the continuation of the legend. And to save you all some time I’ll tell you now, it never comes. 

Ultimately The Dark Knight Rises fails to live up to it’s predecessor. Partly because it lacks a truly fearsome and challenging villain, but also because the script tried to do so much and succeeded in doing only a fraction of it. With a little more focus on the occupation of Gotham and perhaps a better start, Bruce being a shut in since the death of Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes paints Bruce as a tad pathetic and childish, The Dark Knight Rises could have been truly spectacular. Instead we get a closing chapter to the trilogy that lacked a certain something, as if the death of Heath Ledger meant Nolan and co couldn’t make the film they wanted to, with the Joker being required, at least partially, to add to the chaos. 

The Dark Knight Rises ends with a bang, but it’s finale is really more of a whimper. It’s a traditional, hopeful ending that goes against everything that’s come before, with a final scene reminiscent of Inception’s final scene, where Nolan tries one more use of “theatricality and deception”. Unfortunately the moments leading up to it rob the audience of any chance to debate what it means, leaving us with what feels like a tacked on scene in place of something a little bigger and more mythic.

The Dark Knight Rises, just not to the heights promised in the aftermath of Batman Begins and The Dark Knight.

A couple of weeks ago I finally saw Prometheus and soon after went about reviewing it as the inaugural review for Constructive Commentary. I really didn’t like the film, which led to  me savaging the film in a torrential tirade of nerd rage the internet has become famous for. And in a way, i felt bad. Mostly because hindsight’s 20/20 and shitting on something a lot of people poured their heart and soul into doesn’t change my current circumstances. But also because that’s not what Constructive Commentary was supposed to be about, whether this ends up in being little more than a writing exercise or leads to something more professional, the point of Constructive Commentary was to review films in a fair, balanced way that tries to set an example for other film critics. It’s in the title “CONSTRUCTIVE Commentary”, so with that in mind, here’s Constructive Commentary Prometheus: Redux.

Prometheus is a flawed film. It’s a tangled mess existential debate, attempts at fan serving world and mythology building, hints of character motivations and the slightest gleam of what Prometheus could have been. Which isn’t to say there aren’t redeeming features, aesthetically the film is a triumph, making me curious to see it in 3D one day, not only does it look great, but the design of everything from the Prometheus’ interiors and exterior, to the already established alien ship and everything that connects the new with the old. Not only does everything look great, but it stays faithful to what’s already been seen in Alien and the rest of the franchise. 

Which is where the film begins to fall apart. A lot of production design that went into the film is difficult to make out, and the sets that are clearly visible suffer from being sets for scenes that’re short, inconsequential and often rushed. Further more they suffer from the film’s cinematography: it’s obvious what Ridley Scott and co were aiming for, the ensemble crew of characters picked off one by one, set mostly within one or two claustrophobic environments and a female lead acting as the emotional and narrative drive of the film, are obvious nods to Prometheus’ originator Alien. Because of this we get lots of close ups or two shots, most of which is handheld, focusing us on the characters, preventing us from seeing most of the hard work that’s obviously been put into the sets. Worse yet, the characters we’re supposed to be invested in are really investable. They’re cookie cutter characters that fit the archetypes the Alien franchise is known for, none of them really resonate, meaning when they’re picked off one by one, I struggled to care. 

The biggest problem is the script. It meanders this way and that, never really finding it’s true focus, confuses mentioning existential discussion with having something to say about it, struggles to corral the various character’s stories and motivations into a satisfying narrative and, worst of all, barely touches on the reason this film exists. The film was supposed to explore the mythology of the Alien franchise, instead what we get is a kitchen sink drama in space, and not in a good way. When the film was first announced, there were conflicting statements about what the film was: some said it was a prequel, others said it was an unrelated film with “DNA of the Alien franchise”. What we ultimately got was something in the middle, with the strands of Alien DNA clearly visible, but not quite touched on. The presence of The Architects (the aliens responsible not only for all life on Earth, but also THE Alien that we all know and fear) is the closest we really get to any mythological expansion or world building, unfortunately it’s neither satisfying or that revelatory.

There are other issues with the script, things that I would have glossed over or perhaps not even noticed had Prometheus been a stronger film. They’re mostly little things, plot holes that defy explanation. One of them is the casting of Guy Ritchie. Those of you who followed the viral marketing know that Ritchie played Steve Jobs of the future Peter Weyland. Prometheus is set A LONG time after those TED talks, yet they still felt it necessary to have Ritchie play old man Weyland, even though he doesn’t appear in the film as a young man. As I said, it’s a minor quibble, but it leaves you expecting something more to happen with his character, especially as the film’s plot does in fact hinge on his motivations, but it never does, it just fizzles out, much like the film itself.

The other “big little thing” is a moment straight out of a Buggs Bunny cartoon. In the film’s final set piece, Noomi Rapace’s Elizabeth Shaw watches as a space ship falls out of the sky and crashes towards her, falling in a way that crushes several other characters near by. But when it comes to Shaw? Well, she trips near a rock, which takes the full weight of the ship and prevents her from becoming a forgettable female lead pancake.

In a cast that include actors like Idris Elba, Charlize Theron and Noomi rapace, it’s strange that the only actor who really stands out is Michael Fassbender, playing the token android character David. Fassbender’s performance is pitch perfect as the not quite human David. The character is genuinely unnerving, constantly keeping you guessing as to wether he’s loyal android servant or something more sinister. Unfortunately, the script never quite gives David the screen time he deserves, leaving the character to do some down right evil things with little to no real motivation. There’s the occasional dig or reference to the fact that David’s not human, which hints at a larger story of intolerance between androids and humans, but it’s never explored far enough to make David any more than evil robot archetype.

Prometheus needed more focus, fewer characters and less of the conspiratorial claptrap that bogged down the later entries to the franchise. (I’m looking at you Alien: Resurrection) But what it really needed was more of the H.R Geiger’s Xenomorph. The payoff to the creature’s reveal and birth is muddled, left to the final moments of the film and never given time to shine. All of which means that Prometheus left me feeling cheated, with an ending that does little more than set up a sequel that we might never see. The entire film’s narrative drive is the quest for truth and discovery of Humanity’s true origins, but we never get any of that: the film has no resolution, leaving me to wonder what the point of Prometheus was.