Film Review: Vice

"It Has Been My Honor To Be Your Servant. You Chose Me. And I Did What You Asked..."

Reuniting the rather excellent filmmaking team behind 2016's The Big Short, Vice, brings to the big screen a rather scathing, politically one-sided depiction of the rise and fall of one of America's most infamous contemporary political figureheads, Dick Cheney, the Nebraskan born figure of ruthlessness who during the course of almost three decades rose to great prominence within the White House, eventually earning the title of the most powerful vice president in history in his time within the rather controversial Bush presidency at the turn of the twentieth century. Directed by Adam McKay, whose success with The Big Short seems to have thankfully pushed him away from the laddish cringiness of the likes of Step Brothers forevermore, Vice follows a very familial cinematic layout to the Oscar winning drama by essentially portraying a contemporary and highly controversial issue with a balance of both black comedy and seriousness, one led by the seemingly interchangeable figure of Christian Bale (The Dark Knight) who once again goes full-on The Machinist, albeit in reverse, by utilising the skills of prosthetics and his local takeaway in order to pull off a rather outstanding central performance in what is a considerably flashy ensemble acting piece. Slapped with a guarantee to inflame and provoke immediate discussion on both sides of the political fence, Vice is an explicit, highly intriguing, and at times, genuinely terrifying, depiction of modern politics in action which continues the notion that when handed the right material, McKay can truly be a standout figure of importance within the world of issue-based cinema. 

Beginning with the successful rise of Christian Bale's Cheney as he quickly progresses from drunken college dropout to falling under the wing of Steve Carell's (Beautiful Boy) charismatic and wickedly devious, Donald Rumsfeld, McKay's movie utilises the opening chapters in order to establish the unbreakable relationship within the Cheney household, with Amy Adams' (Arrival) Lynne equally as power hungry as her aspiring husband, albeit burdened by her understanding of the limitations of her gender in the world of American politics. With it absolutely impossible to fit in every single point of interest within Cheney's alarmingly elongated career, the central narrative of the movie begins and ends with the events of 9/11, a time in which Cheney's tunnel vision for power is most clearly represented, and whilst at times the movie seems to disregard levels of depth for characters who seem to come and go, it comes at no surprise that those already slightly invested in such a crucial time in American politics may feel the ride much easier than those with absolutely zero interest or awareness of the events which occurred at the start of the twenty first century. Being part of the latter, the chance to witness Sam Rockwell portray (Three Billboards) George W. Bush as a drunken, easily led simpleton is almost too delicious to turn down, even when the film refuses to hold back in reminding the audience of the terrifying devastation at the heart of his particular tenure as President.

   

Whilst comparisons to The Big Short are obviously rather inevitable in terms of the storytelling, the most obvious and in-your-face connection between the two movies is of course the flashy, quickfire editing technique which McKay utilises so heavy in order to convey the many ideas floating around his head onto the big screen. With almost an uncanny sense of being handed subliminal messaging at times, the storytelling is constantly intercut with random segments of imagery and seemingly relevant newsreel footage which are used to reinforce the overarching political standing at the heart of the movie. With Jesse Plemons (Game Night) this time handed the reigns as narrator, Vice surprisingly never seems gimmicky or too confusing, with the constant editing shifts actually balancing the rather heavy and hectic central plot involving political jargon and offers a somewhat release and breakaway from characters who at the end of the day, are all downright slimey and evil to their core. With Bale supplying the archetypal, Marlon Brando-esque sense of commitment to the lead role of Cheney, Vice supplies the platform for yet another awards touted performance full of grandiose presence, even when the real life Cheney himself was renowned for being something of a introverted, slightly muted charisma vacuum. Whilst I was always destined to admire a piece of work with a political standpoint which pretty much aligns with my own when it comes to the downright illegal doings of one of the most infamous presidencies in history, Vice crucially did not disappoint and managed to handle the difficult subject matter with relative ease, supplying an excellent follow up to The Big Short and getting me excited for whatever Team McKay decide to do next. 

Overall Score: 8/10

90th Academy Awards: Best Supporting Actor

Oscars 2018: Best Supporting Actor

Another day, another Academy Awards category to look upon here at Black Ribbon, and whilst not as much as a full-on given, it may seem that joining Frances McDormand up on the Oscar winners stage this year will more than likely be fellow Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri star Sam Rockwell, whose performance as the despicable, hate-filled, racist bigot, Officer Dickson is one of awards touting success, even if the fundamentals of Rockwell's character is utter torturous from beginning to end, and whilst Woody Harrelson also shines as the moral cornerstone of McDonagh's movie as Sheriff Bill Willoughby, it seems Rockwell will indeed only continue the gongs that have been heading the Irish directors way. Elsewhere, Willem Dafoe earns his third Oscar nomination for Sean Baker's The Florida Project whilst Christopher Plummer also receives a nod for his rapidly manufactured role as Jean Paul Getty in Ridley Scott's All the Money in the World after the much publicised erasure of Kevin Spacey in the same role. Concluding the nomination ticket is of course Richard Jenkins for his beautifully emotive role as Giles in Guillermo del Toro's The Shape of Water after being completely overlooked for his equally impressive role in S. Craig Zahler's little seen Western Bone Tomahawk back in 2016, and even though the likes of Will Poulter and yes, Bill Skarsgård would have seen recognition in my book for Detroit and the brilliant It respectively, the Best Supporting Actor race is once again yet another strong category to pick a winner from. Here are the main points...

Winner - Sam Rockwell (Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri)

Personal Favourite - Sam Rockwell (Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri)

Nomination Snub - Will Poulter (Detroit)

Film Review: Mute

"I Love You So Much Leo, But You Don't Know Me..."

Engaging with and including myself within the small minority who can actually stand up proudly and state that 2016's Warcraft was actually better than most critics gave the movie credit for, Duncan Jones' career has drifted from contemplative low-budget success story (Moon) to big budget science fiction spectacular (Source Code) in a reasonably swift amount of time, and with the release of Mute this week as the latest Netflix original after years of development hell, Jones' long-term project, one deemed as the "spiritual sequel" to 2009's Moon, is finally brought to life, if only on the small screen. Following Alexander Skarsgård's (The Legend of Tarzan) Leo, the titular mute barkeep who attempts to solve the mystery of Seyneb Saleh's Naadirah's sudden disapearance within the heart of a future-world Berlin, Jones' latest is unfortunately a cliched and utterly soulless Blade Runner rip-off, one which attempts to sew together a noir-esque primary plot thread amidst stereotypical Russian gangsters, The Fifth Element style campness and eerily ill-judged set pieces which are as ridiculous as they are jaw-droppingly stupid, resulting in Mute conforming to the fate of The Cloverfield Paradox by being yet another Netflix funded let down. 

With Sally Hawkins managing to convey both rigorous emotion and heartwarming depth to a character of similar ilk in Guillermo del Toro's The Shape of Water, the inclusion of Skarsgård's Leo, the speech-free central character of the piece, is somewhat gimmicky and undeniably underwritten, with Hawkins' character necessary in furthering the audience's understanding of the relationship between herself and Doug Jones' aquatic monster, a level of narrative depth which is completely absent from the entirety of Jones' screenplay, resulting in Skarsgård's performance coming off as nothing more than a growling, angst-ridden puppet which is used to facilitate the furthering of plot when necessary. Whilst the opening forty five minutes of the piece is somewhat interesting, even with a heavy handed dose of exposition which explains absolutely everything in a excruciatingly painful paint-by-numbers fashion, the film really turns after a showdown between Leo and Dominic Monaghan's sex facilitator on a bed next to a staggeringly imaginative pleasure doll which resulted in one of the biggest unintentional laughs I will have this year, and with the emergence of the similarly awful Paul Rudd (Ant Man) as the least threatening villain of the year so far and Justin Theroux's (Mulholland Drive) overly misjudged paedophilic sidekick, Mute turns overly wacky and staggeringly dull rather quickly and with a conclusion which doesn't entirely make up for the wait, Jones' latest is annoyingly his weakest work to date, and for a project which took more than a decade to bring to the screen, one could have argued it should have stayed on the cutting room floor. 

Overall Score: 4/10

Film Review: Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

"You Know, If You Hadn't Stopped Coming To Church, You'd Have A Little More Understanding Of People's Feelings..."

With the likes of In Bruges and Seven Psychopaths on his curriculum vitae, Irish screenwrite Martin McDonagh has become renowned in the entertainment trade for snappy and subversive tales which blend the darker traits of the human spirit with rib-tickling comedic undertones, and his return this week with the hotly anticipated jet-black drama, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri is an interesting example of a movie which has both equal measures of excellence and fundamental, unforgivable sin. Primarily following Frances McDormand (Fargo, Hail, Caesar!) as the grieving, unpredictable and potty mouthed Mildred Hayes, who in her attempt to call out the workings of the local police force after her daughter's violent death instinctively causes anguish within the community with the implementation of the titular billboards, McDonagh's latest carries all the traits and features you would expect when glancing over the director's previous endeavours on film, but with primary characters within the narrative which ease on the side of utmost vulgarity and gaping plot inconsistencies which become too jarring to ignore, Billboards is a movie which is the epitome of a picture where the whole is lesser than the sum of its' parts. Whilst performances all around are seemingly note perfect, with obvious plaudits directed to McDormand's fiery justice seeker and Sam Rockwell's idiotic, racist and utterly despicable local law enforcer, Officer Dickson, the real heart and centre of the piece is undeniably Woody Harrelson's Sheriff Bill Willoughby, whose key involvement in the direction of the narrative is the only true character where emotional investment and engagement is truly viable. 

Whilst the character of Hayes has a self defined purpose due to the tragic loss of her daughter, her penchant for unwarranted violence and vulgar sensibility highlights the key flaw in a script which not only is tonally wild, but isn't comedic or sharp enough to come across anything other than played with a straight face, and for a movie which tackles poorly a wide range of issues ranging from rape to institutionalised racism, McDonagh's script is one of the most nihilistic portrayals of the human race presented on screen in recent memory. With the comedic elements completely absent therefore, the continued use of petulant swearing and offensive set pieces do ultimately lead to extensive nitpicking in terms of plot inconsistencies, with the most obvious being a complete lack of any realist sense of consequence for any of the major players within the piece, with people being violently attacked in front of gazing witnesses, children being assaulted and police stations being burnt to the ground, with the characters at fault then seemingly left without any sense of punishment, and for a movie whose primary basis is Hayes' search for justice, the feel of the movie just seems terribly conflicted and contradicted. Finally, we get to the character of Rockwell's Officer Dickson, whose revolting, old-fashioned sensibilities and racist, sexist and bigoted views are seemingly forgotten over the course of the movie's runtime, with McDonagh handing the character over to the audience as a sort of redemptive figure of hope which I completely and utterly rejected, and whilst Rockwell's performance is undeniably brilliant, his respective character isn't and whilst Billboards is indeed brilliantly made and is helmed by a flashy pace which zips along nicely, the key message and feel of the movie ultimately left me with a nasty taste in my mouth, and for a film to successfully manage that, McDonagh's latest is a film I can admire but ultimately cannot bring myself to like. 

Overall Score: 6/10

Film Review: Poltergeist

They're Here!

I really have no idea why film producers, directors, executives etc. in the 21st century feel the need to constantly regurgitate, remake and ultimately ruin classic horror movies of the century previous aside from the notion that hopefully it will make them a quick buck. Not only is it annoying that every-time you speak to someone about films such as Halloween, A Nightmare on Elm Street, and even The Wicker Man (Not the bees!) you have to prepare yourself to constantly remind them you are speaking about the original, not the remake, but that the quality of such is so terrifyingly bad it begs the question whether they will ever stop murdering films of a classic nature that mean so much to the horror fans in the world, me included. For the time being, it seems like the answer is no, with the latest entry into such an unwanted genre of movies is Poltergeist, a "terrifying new vision" of the 1982 classic, which back then had Spielberg on screenplay and production duties whilst Tobe Hooper, of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre fame, was on board as director. Replacing them is Sam Raimi, who I am a massive fan of, and Gil Kenan of Monster House respectively, but even with the mastermind of Evil Dead behind it, the 2015 version of Poltergeist is everything I feared it to be; turgid. 

Haunted house? Check. Creepy child? Check. Bad script? Check. Unnecessary from the outset? Check. If you need a plot synopsis, I implore you to please go and watch the original Poltergeist which although may seem rather dated in terms of effects and dodgy haircuts, is the Citizen Kane of horror movies in comparison to this turkey of a movie. Half way through the film I actually decided to have a little sleep, with the film not attempting in the slightest to come across as a "new vision" of the Poltergeist franchise, but instead being an almost uncanny, shot-for-shot remake of the original except with much more boring characters, a much more boring and limp script, a badly CGI'd scene in which a child's drone is flown into the "other side", which obviously was shafted in to make the use of 3D retrofitting seem acceptable, and Sam Rockwell seemingly looking like he has just walked off a set in which he was portraying Brad Pitt's stoner character from True Romance. His decision to act with as little acting ability as possible was actually quite startling to see, with the choice to embrace the character of a beleaguered father seemingly caught in the crossfire with the cheque he picked up on his way out the set. 

As you can tell, I am pretty peeved with Poltergeist. It is just so sad to see a supposed horror-movie lover such as Sam Raimi just seemingly not give a care in the world in trashing one of the 20th century's greatest horror movies. Please, save your money, go and watch A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night instead and gaze at a proper horror movie, one that doesn't blatantly copy every scene and line from a much better film and one that will live long in the memory of those who watch it, unlike Poltergeist, which should be forgotten and denied it ever even existed as soon as humanly possible. It takes a really bad film to get a score of zero, and Poltergeist isn't that, its' a film that begs the question of its' own existence. Did we really need it? Of course not. Will it be left alone forever more from this day on? I really, really hope so. 

Overall Score: 3/10