Film Review: Aladdin

"You Stumbled Upon An Opportunity. I Can Make You Rich. Rich Enough To Impress A Princess..."

Acting as the second Disney backed money making exercise of the year so far, with the likes of The Lion King and Lady and the Tramp still to come, Aladdin follows hotly in the footsteps of the critically trashed and solidified box office bomb, Dumbo, by once again "treating" audiences to a live-action "reimagining" of the 1992 animated classic of the same name which to many, is the ultimate Disney adventure thanks to its' outrageously memorable and Academy Award winning soundtrack and of course, the iconic dulcet tones of the late, great Robin Williams as Genie. With Aladdin circa 2019 therefore, the transition from animation to live action brings in the cinematic enigma that is Guy Ritchie (King Arthur: Legend of the Sword) as director, a bold and overly baffling decision considering the Brit's recent back catalogue, and whilst sometimes such clashes bring forth works of brilliance, it comes at no surprise that Ritchie's take on the animated classic begs the question yet again of why such a remake is necessary in the first place, and whilst Aladdin does feature some interesting and well orchestrated set pieces, all the positive elements seem to be those cherry picked from the original to an uncanny exactness with the tacked on additions only damaging a picture which falls into the same category as Dumbo; absolutely pointless.

With an opening forty minute act which ranks almost as mind numbingly dull as that seen within Dumbo, the screenplay from Ritchie and John August (Dark Shadows, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory) swiftly introduces us to the main players of the piece, with Mena Massoud (Jack Ryan) handed down the titular lead role as the kind hearted, street rat who soon falls deep in love with the glowing beauty of Naomi Scott's (Power Rangers) Princess Jasmine, and whilst Scott undoubtedly has talent to burn, singing voice and all, it's ironically Massoud who nearly sinks the ship completely, with his performance devoid of all charisma or charm and supported by a vocal capacity which challenges Pierce Brosnan in Mamma Mia! for worst contemporary evidence of on-screen karaoke. With the first act almost sending me to sleep, I almost resorted to prayer at the sight of Will Smith (Bad Boys, Independence Day) as he finally marks his appearance on the big screen, and whilst his own take on Genie is undoubtedly a cross between the Fresh Prince of Bel Air and Nicolas Cage after snorting contaminated cocaine in Mandy, the remaining eighty minutes seem to be no longer directed by Ritchie at all, with the film's choreographer instead enhancing the movie into a pretty fun ride, albeit one seen exactly before in the 1992 version, but with the noose already tightened and added inclusions which really don't work and only seek to stretch out the already tired runtime, Aladdin is fine but pointless and a remake which just happens to have Will Smith as the clear ace in the pack. 

Overall Score: 5/10

Film Review: Velvet Buzzsaw

"You Ever Notice Anything About This Painting? If You Look At It Long Enough, It Moves..."

Ever since Jake Gyllenhaal (Nocturnal Animals) and Dan Gilroy combined back in 2014 to create one of the most compelling and cinematic contemporary thrillers in the form of Nightcrawler, the knowledge that both would reunite once again upon the Netflix format seemed apt considering the streaming company's pedigree for allowing particular directors to drop their hands into an endless pot of money and do pretty much whatever they want in return for complete release rights. Moving away from the world of drama for the time being after the middling success of last year's Roman J. Israel, Esq., Gilroy's latest in the form of Velvet Buzzsaw sees the American go full on B-Movie silliness which just happens to have a top of the line A-star cast. Led once again by the enviable talents of Gyllenhaal, Gilroy's latest sees the American as a dedicated, if slightly exaggerated, art critic, who after the discovery of a never before seen body of work by a deceased, isolated hermit by the name of Ventril Dease, soon becomes obsessed with the idea that his paintings are somehow responsible for a strange series of accident related deaths and sudden unexplained disappearances. 

With the likes of Nightcrawler managing to balance just right the tonal balance between jet black comedy and full on dramatic seriousness, Velvet Buzzsaw suffers primarily from never really managing to settle on such a healthy synchronisation, with Gilroy's latest not ripe enough to to be placed in the realm of full on, exploitation greatness, with an element of horror which never at all comes across as either faintly scary or tense, and likewise, never really manages to grasp a serious approach either, resulting in a strange blend of the stylish perfection of something like Nocturnal Animals and the goofiness of Ghostbusters, just without managing to secure the sheer brilliance of either. With an underlying notion riding through the screenplay regarding a seemingly personal led attack stemmed from the mind of Gilroy and his personal feelings regarding either the shallowness of the art world or the uptight nature of criticism in any shape or form, Velvet Buzzsaw almost seems too shy to fully explore its' genre conventions, with the camera always peering away from death scenes and victims of murder, resulting in an underlying feeling that maybe the editor just felt a bit too twitchy showing the likes of Gyllenhaal come face to face with his inevitable fate. Whilst it is always entertaining to witness top level actors completely take to the silliness of a screenplay like Gilroy's with open arms and complete dedication, it comes as a slight shame that pretty much every single leading character within the drama is ultimately an absolute stinking moron with ponciness to burn, and whilst Velvet Buzzsaw doesn't even scratch the surface of the best that Gilroy can offer, Netflix's latest big name capture is silly, messy fun but not in any way memorable.  

Overall Score: 6/10

Film Review: Game Night

"For The Next Hour You're Not Going To Know What's Real Or What's Fake..."

Part of the ensemble of writers behind the screenplay for Marvel's Spider-Man: Homecoming, film-making duo, John Francis Daley and Jonathan Goldstein return to directing with Game Night, a blackly comic mystery popcorn delight based on a script by the relatively unknown figure of Mark Perez, featuring Jason Bateman (The Gift) and Rachel McAdams (Spotlight) as the competitive married couple who are sucked into a night of outrageous antics with their weekly "game night" comrades by Kyle Chandler's (Manchester By The Sea) returning overzealous and annoyingly successful brother figure who promises the players a night of gaming unlike any before it. With laugh out loud gags from beginning to end and a joyous first time viewing in which the audience is pulled left, right and centre in regards to the many twists which come before them, Game Night is an American comedy which ultimately works much more effectively than your average US-based comic farce thanks to a tightly wound script and an ensemble cast who undeniably seem to be having as much fun as the fee paying customers come to observe, and even if the movie may not work as well on repeat viewings after its' concluding payoff, Daley and Goldstein's latest is still a resounding full house. 

With obvious narrative comparisons to David Fincher's 1997 mystery drama The Game, albeit with with a much more comical tone, Game Night manages to succeed in intertwining both the whodunit elements of its' narrative with the sickly black tone of its' sharp humour, with set pieces featuring amateur bullet hole surgery and the attempted deep clean of a blood soaked dog resulting in hysterical fits of giggles as you soak up the sheer absurdity which unfolds throughout a tightly packed 100 minutes runtime. With Bateman and McAdams leading the line of couples entrapped in the film's leading mystery, the chemistry between them is undeniably well measured, and even with my own personal reservations regarding the former's on-screen talents when it comes to comedy, their central relationship is crucial to the more out-there comedy elements which in lesser hands may have indeed folded under the silliness of it all. With Jesse Plemons (Hostiles) stealing the show as the woefully awkward next door neighbour and a fantastically designed post-movie credit sequence, Game Night is if anything, outstanding popcorn fun, and for an American comedy to hold my attention for its' entire runtime, that is a miracle within itself. 

Overall Score: 7/10

Film Review: Ingrid Goes West

"Hashtag: I Am Ingrid..."

In a week in which every single cinema in the county has been asked to cram its' screens with the toxic waste of Justice League, thank the heavens for a film in the ilk of Ingrid Goes West, an interesting, blackly comic contemporary stalker drama with a cracking lead performance from Legion star, Aubrey Plaza as the titular social media obsessed Ingrid Thorburn. Directed and written by big time debutant Matt Spicer, the movie depicts an Instagram fixated dreamer who relocates to Los Angeles after the death of her mother in order to seek out Elizabeth Olsen's social media star, Taylor Sloane and become part of her excessively independent lifestyle which she shares with Wyatt Russell's hipster husband, Ezra. Beginning with an opening act which straight away highlights the aggressive nature of Ingrid's obsession and to what end she may go to in order to combat her rage and discomfort at being isolated in a world riddled with people's wishes to be noticed, Ingrid Goes West goes on to explore the contemporary issue of social media excess and the notion of a life based solely around the viewing of society through a small shiny screen.  

With Black Mirror vibes aplenty and the likes of Single White Female a sure inspiration, with a name drop in the narrative necessary to cement such, Spicer's sure footed direction allows the movie's key players to bring all round top notch performances, from O'Shea Jackson Jr's Batman obsessed screenwriter to Billy Magnussen's hateful steroid fueled junkie, all of whom acting as catnip for Plaza's character's downfall into complete and utter obsession with a character who is the epitome of everything wrong with society's quest for avocado on toast and early twentieth century sociological literature. Whilst Spicer's movie does involve elements of jet-black comedy and ironic societal comments, most of Ingrid Goes West's healthy ninety minute runtime is played particularly straight faced, accumulating in a concluding act which although is admiral in what it's attempting to say, doesn't exactly pay off, but with a brilliantly kooky and unpredictable leading performance from Audrey Plaza, Ingrid Goes West is a highly enjoyable ideas laden social drama which reminds that you don't always need a big budget to win an audience around. 

Overall Score: 7/10