Film Review: Gringo

"Why Do I Always Get Screwed For Doing My Job...?"

Itching with a sense of Hollywood styled nepotism, director Nash Edgerton brings brother Joel (Red Sparrow), Charlize Theron (Mad Max: Fury Road) and Oxford's own, David Oyelowo (Selma) aboard for his directorial debut, Gringo, a kooky, wildly inconsistent crime caper based on a screenplay by both Anthony Tambakis and Matthew Stone which sees Oyelowo's white-collared Harold Soyinka caught between his sickeningly narcissistic bosses and the murderous ventures of the Mexican cartel as attempts to reconstruct his life based around cheating partners and financial ills by conning his way into a paycheck suitable enough to begin a new life. With the trailers somewhat misleading the movie's true intentions by presenting it as a full bodied comedy, Gringo instead is the type of movie which can't seem to make up its' mind as it grinds solemnly through a runtime which edges just under two hours, and whilst each of the cast members give it their all in attempting to breathe some sort of life into proceedings, Edgerton's movie just doesn't seem to leave any sort of meaningful impression and simply comes in via one ear and departs swiftly out of the other. 

Beginning by laying the foundations for the misfortunes which await Oyelowo's titular "Gringo" as he follows Theron and Edgerton's success craved business partners across the Mexican border in order to talk business regarding the sale of a marijuana-infused pill, Edgerton's movie takes time to really set sail, with a first half unsure of its' ultimate direction resulting in losing audience interest rather swiftly, and even as the action unfolds once we hit the the sunny sights of a gangland infested Mexico, Gringo doesn't at any time hit a steady stride in regards to what we as the audience are meant to be taking in and dissecting. A few chuckles aside, Gringo doesn't ultimately work as a comedy either and is a film better served being admired as a Guy Ritchie-esque double crossing caper, just without the freshness of a Lock, Stock... or the zesty absurdity of a Snatch, and with a thrown in penchant for unnecessary violence and crude stereotypes regarding one-dimensional Mexican citizens, Edgerton's movie is a strangely dull mixed bag of a movie. With the trio of front and centre stars all managing to come across somewhat watchable however, with Oyelowo's likeable luckless lead the obvious standout, Gringo isn't exactly poor, it's just badly managed, and for a cast this talented at the heart of it, Edgerton's debut could, and should have, been much, much sharper.  

Overall Score: 5/10

Film Review: Red Sparrow

"The Cold War Did Not End, It Merely Shattered Into A Thousand Pieces..."

Based upon the similarly titled 2013 novel by former Central Intelligence Agency agent, Jason Matthews, director Francis Lawrence reunites with long-term collaborator, Jennifer Lawrence (mother!), after their work together on the final three entries within Hunger Games film series with Red Sparrow, a sadistic spy thriller which attempts to blend the nihilistic approach of cold war paranoia with a Robert Ludlum-esque secret agent mystery narrative featuring Lawrence in the leading role as the Russian ballerina turned operative who is tasked with discovering a native mole who has been supplying the US with state secrets. With a lifeless, cold tone and a jaw-dropping exploitation sensibility which airs more on the side of advantageous leering regarding its' lead star than that of actual substance, Red Sparrow is a staggeringly misjudged and overly dull affair, one which although can be somewhat praised for attempting to present a more bolder and brutal by the numbers spy story, hashes it's early promise and comes across more as an overly disappointing affair with a, hold your breath, completely miscast leading lady. 

After sustaining an ill-fated injury which prematurely ends her career as a prestigious ballerina, Jennifer Lawrence's awfully accented Dominika Egorova turns to Matthias Schoenaerts' (The Danish Girl) Ivan Dimitrevich Egorov, her slimy, power hungry uncle who recruits her into the "Red Sparrow" programme and under the wing of Charlotte Rampling's (45 Years) Matron who attempts to teach her the ways of psychological, sexual and overly humiliating manipulation. With Lawrence being confined to direction which forces her to maintain a complete look of utter boredom and attempting to preserve a straight face during set pieces which give Fifty Shades of Grey a run for its' money, Red Sparrow suffers primarily from a key weakness regarding Lawrence's implausibility as a hard-edged Russian spy, and whilst her dodgy accent isn't the only one in the movie to induce sniggering fits of laughter, the film is made worse by being a key example of an obsession between director and leading star reaching astronomical levels, with the camera woozily ogling at the sight of its' leading star whenever she is forced to take off her clothes or engage in one of many terribly misjudged sexuality torture scenes. Whilst I am all for nudity and stylised violence when absolutely necessary, Lawrence's latest is one the most unnecessary gory examples of mainstream exploitation cinema I've seen in recent history, and when you through into the mix a yawn inducing underlying narrative about double-crossing agents and a resolution which is the definition of cop-out, Red Sparrow is indeed quite poor, even with a semi-decent Joel Edgerton attempting to save the day. 

Overall Score: 4/10

Film Review: It Comes at Night

"You Can't Trust Anyone But Family..."

Learning his cinematic craft on the set of not one, nor two but three Terrence Malick productions including the staggeringly beautiful The Tree of Life, American filmmaker Trey Edward Shults follows on from his critically acclaimed debut, Krisha, this week with It Comes at Night, a psychological horror movie which features The Gift's Joel Edgerton in the leading role and a movie which seems to have somewhat drifted under the propaganda radar, resulting in the first time in a while in which I head into a movie having no idea or preconceptions about what I am about to witness on-screen. Whether this is an element which ultimately damages or aids a particular release, there is a sense of thrilling ambiguity being unaware of a film's direction, particularly in regards to a horror movie, and what we have with It Comes at Night is a staggeringly bleak, yet wholly effective white-knuckle thriller, one which uses its' minimalist surroundings to outstanding use and a movie which perfectly showcases the acting talents of one Joel Edgerton, an actor who seems to have found his perfect hunting ground in order to grind out the best he has to offer upon the big screen.

Set in the aftermath of an unknown, ambiguous, worldwide pandemic, It Comes at Night focuses primarily on Edgerton's Paul, the husband and father figure of a survivalist family destined to keep safe in the midst of the darkened wilderness who are suddenly forced to surrender their safety for the greater good when they come across another trio of survivors who too are desperate for survival. With a narrative edge as bleak and nihilistic as films such as The Road and even at times, The Mist, It Comes at Night is a effective mix of psychological and body horror, one which echoes a wide range of previous films from 28 Days Later to last year's The Girl With All the Gifts, particularly in regards to its' underlying notion of disease and contagion, and with cinematography which makes the likes of Seven look like a Disney movie, the jet black colour pallet adds to the ghostly air of uncertainty which embraces the viewer and leaves the audience with a sense of never really knowing where the tension is directly heading. Whilst the violence and dastardly dark plot turns result in the movie not exactly being for all audiences, for someone who loved the likes of The Witch and The Neon Demon recently, It Comes at Night is independent horror at it's most effective.

Overall Score: 8/10

Film Review: Midnight Special

"Could We Go Back To Texas Now?"

Oh boy, it's glad to be back. Taking a much needed couple of weeks off from the cinema during the over-long Easter break, my return to the big-screen begins with Midnight Special, the newest film from the mind of Jeff Nichols, best know for films such as Take Shelter and the critically acclaimed Mud a couple of years back. Erasing the horror of my last venture into the cinema before my break, with Batman v Superman still hurting my mind every time I think about it, I ventured into Midnight Special hardly knowing anything about it apart from the incredibly solid A-List cast featuring the likes of the brilliant Michael Shannon and Joel Edgerton as well as the newest Sith Lord himself, Adam Driver being on the payroll. Mixing in-between genres quicker than you can say space invaders, Midnight Special is a strange, quirky movie, one that undeniably revels in showing off it's love of movies like E.T and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, in fact, it's love of Spielberg in general, yet it ultimately fails to live up to the great man, coming up short in many aspects that could have perhaps made it a future cult classic. 

Delving right into the mix of things, Midnight Special begins head-first into the action, with little characterisation to begin with being offset with ambiguous plot threads ranging from a mysterious cult, to the involvement of the FBI and DEA, and finally, the kidnapping of a young child, one whom may not be all he seems, ripping a plot device used so effectively in Rian Johnson's Looper, a film which bears minor similarities to Midnight Special, along with a hint of last years' Tomorrowland, particularly in the film's slightly over-long final third. Mix in a element of A.I, and the recipe completes the blueprints to Midnight Special, a film which begins well enough but then slightly descends into generic sci-fi territory, with added corny CGI thrown into the midst. A solid sci-fi, but nothing extraordinary, but hey, at least it's better than Batman v Superman. 

Overall Score: 6/10

Film Review: The Gift

What's In The Box?

If you are an avid follower of my own personal film reviews on this blog, you may have latched on to the notion that my hatred of Blumhouse Productions stems from the fact that such a company seem to be the physical form of Satan himself in an attempt to not only ridicule and dispose of all the goodness that decent horror films bring, but to destroy them completely, with tosh including the never-ending Paranormal Activity and Insidious series just a few examples of why Blumhouse were on my hit-list of companies to dissolve as soon as possible. What a crossroads I seem to have hit however this year with not only the absolute masterful Whiplash being released under such a company, but now The Gift, a film that so unexpectedly diverts from all the solemn traits of a Blumhouse production that maybe, just maybe, such a company is finally changing for the better, with their latest release being a Hitchcokian feast of chills and thrills from start to finish. 

Written, directed, and starring Joel Edgerton, The Gift focuses on married couple Simon (Jason Bateman, Arrested Development) and Robyn (Rebecca Hall, Iron Man 3) who after moving into their luxurious new home in Simon's hometown of California, begin to receive gifts from newly acquainted friend Gordo (Edgerton) whom Simon knew from school. When the number and type of gifts begin to be questioned, Simon breaks the friendship off, much to the displeasure of Gordo who subsequently sends a letter to their home regarding his hope in letting "bygones be bygones", much to the confusion of both Robyn and Simon. When Simon seems to be letting off less than he actually knows, Robyn seeks to find the truth behind Gordo's murky past, yet such discoveries lead to a path much different to what she originally believed about both Gordo and husband Simon. First off, the now famous bore-fests that have come to embrace Blumhouse "horrors" is strictly, and gracefully, absent from The Gift, with the cliched "cattle prod cinema" being replaced with atmosphere, darkness, and a sense of threat which has been sorely missing from both horrors and thrillers over recent history. Scenes in which silence is the key function, overclouded with perpetual darkness, were heart-wrenching to say the least, resulting in the jump scenes actually being wholly effective and more importantly, deserved. 

One of the most striking things for me about The Gift for me however, was how multi-layered it was, with themes of loneliness, revenge, heartbreak, and regret all being touched upon in its' perfectly weighted runtime of 110 minutes wherein our feelings regarding who is to blame and who is the true victim constantly changing, even within the films' shocking conclusion in which its' ambiguous nature leaves the audience to make up their own minds, something of which I wholeheartedly salute. Adding to the films' brilliance is the acting in which our main three characters are all brought to screen in a superb fashion, particularly mastermind Edgerton who forces you to hate him one minute and then subsequently sympathise with him the next with an on-screen threat reminiscent of Kevin Spacey's Jon Doe in Seven. So in conclusion, here I am eating a huge slice of humble pie and wondering how on earth two of the best films's of the year in Whiplash and The Gift are now firmly locked in the filmography of Blumhouse. But wait, its' Sinister 2 next. Just a blip then? We shall see. 

Overall Score: 9/10