The Good Shepherd

Clover (Angelina Jolie) and Edward Wilson (Matt Damon) meet for the first time in The Good Shepherd. They will go on to get married and create a family which Wilson moves further and further away from as the formation of the CIA dominates his life.

The cast alone seems to justify a trip to see this film; it is doubtful that reading a synopsis is going to help anyone. It ostensibly tells the story of the formation of the CIA from its early days as the OSS and then through to the Bay of Pigs landings. This is all seen through the life of Edward Wilson (Matt Damon) and it would be described as a biopic if a true story. Sure, there are other characters played by the flawless-but-for-one cast, but the story is Damon's and from his early marriage to Clover (Angelina Jolie) to his participation in the Bay of Pigs scandal we essentially watch the story of his life. This is perhaps why the film is so long and involved, but it does not explain quite why so much is left unsaid and unresolved. The answer to that question lies rather closer to the heart of the film: it is a picture, in my opinion, about the nature of secrets and deception, and I suspect de Niro would be happy if an audience left this film with more questions than answers. This, after all, is the nature of Wilson's life; always seeking the answers to some kind of question that he may not even have realised that he asked. And this giant secret, the cryptogram that is Wilson himself is what takes over the film and so dominates the frustrations of the other characters.

It is in the earliest scenes that the film is at its strongest; the Yale days and then those in World War Two are the most interesting, if only because they seem more human, and Wilson is a more likeable characters - provided the perfect foil in the gay, plagiarising poetry professor who becomes his mentor (played superbly by Michael Gambon). It is in the fall of Berlin that he meets his nemesis for the remainder of the film, codenamed Ulysses, and the film goes on to chronicle the early years of the Cold War. It cuts back and forth from the 'present' of 1961 as Wilson investigates the leak of the details of the landings at the Bay of Pigs, and it is this investigation that necessitates the 45-minute coda to the film as he chases his answer across the world. The film has some moments of absolutely lyrical beauty (a wedding veil in the wind for example) and others of undeniable power, but is plagued too with problems only amplified by its length. The casting is one: Matt Damon is not 45, no matter how dowdy a cardigan he wears, and Angelina Jolie (in a tragically underwritten role) is similarly troubled. In fact, most of the more interesting characters remain on the periphery and some even disappear without a trace at the expense of other, less interesting ones. This is true in the case of Damon and Jolie's son who, quite apart from being boring, gullible and irritating, is fairly atrociously played by Eddie Redmayne. (It seems there are no decent actors in their 20s currently working: first Ben Whishaw, now him, who is next to disgrace themselves on screen?). He overbalances two moments which are absolutely integral to the latter part of the film and had the potential to be affecting and moving, but now just fall a bit flat. It is left to Damon to rescue to film, which he does to an extent with an ending which gives a sense of the tragic to the way his life has been lived - but you can't help wondering how much he brought upon himself. Despite being a foundational member of the CIA, he's not Jason Bourne: he's not presented as a particularly good spy (intentionally or otherwise), which is worsened by the fact his Russian opposite number seems a lot better.

There is a feeling with this film that is has come of some magnificent material and has some genuinely excellent moments, but in the final edition as it is there is too much extraneous material to make it a truly great film. Long films can be magnificent ones (The Godfather, Magnolia) but this one lags too much at times, is the victim of its own structure, and in the end is not as moving as it would like to be (much like Lord of the Rings: Return of the King). Production is flawless (particular nod to editor Tariq Anwar), direction and acting fine and script well done: The Good Shepherd just somehow fails to come together in the end. (De Niro has suggested there is a possible trilogy in development of the life of spy Edward Wilson to the fall of the Berlin Wall and beyond; perhaps it is there this film will cohere).

CHRIS:

Little Children

Sarah (Kate Winslet) and Brad (Patrick Wilson) look on disbelieving as the menace in their midst goes for a swim in the local pool. They will, subsequently this afternoon, launch an affair which will change the direction of their lives, much like all affairs that take place in movies.

The second film from Todd Field, who made the excellent In the Bedroom and in the process reignited the careers of Sissy Spacek and Tom Wilkinson, Little Children is a less intense but equally powerful exploration of adult behaviour. It's no secret that the title refers not to the literal children in the film (who are the catalysts rather than the focus of the action) but in fact the parents who float through the story like directionless waifs. There is Sarah (Kate Winslet) married to the hard-working but Internet-porn-addicted Richard, whose young daughter Lucy accompanies her during long days in the local playground. There she meets 'Prom King' Brad (Patrick Wilson), whose marriage to Kathy (Jennifer Connelly) is on the rocks because of his lack of ambition to pass the bar exam. After an innocent dare in the playground, Brad and Sarah bond and eventually launch a torrid affair while their children take their daily naps and their spouses earn the money to keep them in their middle-class lifestyles. Into this mix is thrown Ronnie (Jackie Earle Haley), a released con who did time for indecent exposure, and becomes the focus of a neighbourhood witch hunt led by Larry (Noah Emmerich). The plot, such as it is, is driven forward by the interactions between these and the married couples, but really the film is a series of excellently executed set pieces, from a Jaws-esque pool scene which becomes hilarious in its believability to an overly overt book club meeting where Sarah defends the misogynist Madame Bovary. These are linked by the presence of a very literary and slightly arch narration which often provides commentary (and superfluous irony).

The lack of plot development harms the film in the end because, like Stranger than Fiction, it does an about-face at the close which undercuts much of what came before. In film that runs to over two hours, it is unfortunate that the ending happens too quickly and we don't quite get enough finality at the end - and don't get me wrong, I'm all for elusiveness, but this just feels truncated. As well, there is a sneaking suspicion that except for one or two moments, it is two films in an uncomfortable marriage, that could have been superior had different parts of each prevailed. For example, in the adultery tale, Kathy is making a documentary about Iraq that feels like a cheap political point as it remains unexplored, when it could have been quite interesting, and the truly moving relationship between Ronnie and his mother (Phyllis Somerville) deserves more space. A note that she leaves for him at one point has a certain spare beauty to it that could go unappreciated given it is rushed through. That said, all of the actors bring a tremendous authenticity to their roles (Haley particularly in the climatic scene) even if Kate Winslet can't 'act' dowdy, and those who seem vacuous do very well. The script is very good in the individual scenes, despite failing to stitch the constituent parts together. It also has a great ironic humour in parts: but one of the "Family Guy" style cutaways is a step too bizarre.

Overall, the quality of the acting elevates this film above the tawdry soap opera it has the potential to be ("Desperate Housewives" on the East Coast it ain't) and it is watchable and enjoyable for its entire length. As said earlier, it is unfortunate that the structural problems get the better of what could have been more moving and piercing than it eventually is. And since when did anyone end a film without at least finishing off the primary storyline!? A re-edit could turn Little Children into a film of the calibre of Field's previous effort, but it remains an achievement in storytelling about adults and the steamy side of suburbia.

CHRIS:

Notes on a Scandal

Sheba Hart (Cate Blanchett) and Barbara Covett (Judi Dench) become closer and closer entwined as the latter becomes a secret-keeper of an affair between Hart and one of her fifteen-year-old Art students at their inner London comprehensive.

In many ways I was predisposed to like this film, given it starts three of my favourite actors, is based on a novel I'd enjoyed, has a screenplay by a preferred playwright, is directed by one of my heroes and features a score by a favourite composer. But setting aside all of that, it is a genuinely good film, with a sparkling sense of humour, a wry cynicism and some particularly outstanding performances, even if they do veer into the stagey at times. It's really a two-hander about the relationship between two women, Barbara Covett (geddit?) and Sheba Hart (oh yer...), who are teaching at the same school when the later begins an illicit affair with a student. The presentation of the story as being Barbara's journal is kept from the novel, with a relatively seamless transition to voice-over, which only at times threatens to overshadow the main action of the film and its third-person aspect (and Judi Dench just has the most wonderful voice). Bill Nighy plays the husband to Cate Blanchett's Sheba in the kind of role he has been obviously typecast for - though without the trademark wisecracks nor the seedy grin to accompany them in this film: he's still outstanding in what is a difficult and somewhat awkward role. Phil Davis is impressive as a sad old colleague. But on to the main event: the Dench/Blanchett showdown is staggeringly good acting; both almost unrecognisable from many of their previous roles. Dench dominates because her character does; she's onscreen or narrating almost every single moment of the film in a shabby and tempestuous glory. Blanchett on the other hand gives the impression of floating through the film and perhaps pitches Sheba on the slightly-too-naive side, but she comes good in the end for what must have been a very difficult take when she throws herself at reporters.

There are a few doubts about the film; Eyre has made enough pictures now to feel confident in using cinematic tools thought it's still a very unobtrusive direction with avoidance of the obvious. The main problem with his direction is in two moments that feel as if they were played for stage instead of screen - the break-up argument between Nighy and Blanchett and the dismissal interview between Dench and the Headmaster (though it's entirely his fault). The first is believable enough given the circumstances, but it is played too quickly and not given enough space. It is the second which threatens to overbalance the ending of the film entirely, and the Headmaster turns in a woefully over-the-top performance that simply isn't credible in the circumstances especially. Much as it did in The Hours, the score dominates some scenes, and it's not quite good enough to get away with it, though it does add to the film. Even the performance of the young boy playing Stephen Connolly (the student in the affair) is quite impressive, although at one point he does give a sub-Jack Nicholson impression which could turn comical but fortunately doesn't: saved once again by Judi Dench, who slams the door in his face. It plays almost like a thriller at times, which I think quite suits the material in a way, given it veers toward melodrama at some points, and the shift away Dench's narration toward the end of the film when it all falls apart is skilfully done.

Overall most definitely recommended for a character inhabitation which is amongst Dench's best ever, and some sterling supporting work. Worth a mention too is the fantastic screenplay by Patrick Marber, which is a really top-notch adaptation and crackles from start to finish, much like the film itself.

CHRIS:

The Gates of Egypt

Clarice (Lynette Curran) travels to Egypt to take a spiritual journey to understand life after the death of her husband. But what she encounters there is much more of a challenge to her way of life than she anticipated. At the Belvoir St Theatre from February 5 - March 11.

The 2007 Company B Season opened with this new work from the ever-controversial Stephen Sewell, about the current security and political questions surrounding the Middle East. The main part of the story concerns Clarice, a middle-aged Australian housewife who has just buried her husband and so embarks upon a journey they always wanted to do to Egypt. This is off-set by the staunch opposition of her family back in suburban Australia, and the action cuts between these two situations as well as going into flashbacks and imaginings of other characters. If this structure sounds complicated, then this is misleading because it actually flows quite naturally; assisted by a set that is simply made of wood and curtains, changes in time and place are merely suggested by lighting changes and projections. Other characters, apart from Clarice (Lynette Curran), her two daughters and their husbands, come and go, but thankfully Sewell allows them all a fair go - even the two American tourists are surprisingly fairly treated (given his history in It Just Stopped and Myth, Propaganda and Disaster in Nazi Germany and Contemporary America) even if the wife verges on caricature at times. I found the less realistic aspects of this production unusually convincing: if you've been married for 40 years to the same man, it is only natural that you continue to talk to him even when he's not there. This contrasts sharply with the violently realistic portrait of the world of the terrorists in the play, a shift to the unsparing verbal and physical violence of Sewell's earlier work.

Yet once again, I feel that his writing simply isn't up to the task of the thematic concerns he outlines (The Sick Room being the worst example for me). Sure, there are some lovely moments, but there are equally as many cringe-worthy episodes where the language simply fails to convince. And once again, modern Australian playwrights seem to have a problem with swearing: it is a given that people occasionally do swear, especially when they're angry, but simply not to this extent. A pivotal argument between one of Clarice's daughters and her husband is ruined by their competition to use the word fuck more than the other. The terrorists are completely verbose by comparison; a much more convincing argument occurs parallel to the Australian one in the Egyptian part of the story. Sewell clearly has no affection for Americans, nor for the Middle East, but he sticks the boot in middle Australia too ("I learnt early on that it doesn't pay to be a smart-arse in this country") and for a play that purports to offer a solution to the hate and violence of the world today, there is quite a lot of it flowing around in this piece. Yet in the midst of this, he gives us a redemptive ending (with not a fuck in sight) which feels contrary to the spirit and tone of the earlier parts of the play. It also closes with a nicely poetic moment, typical of a direction which is unobtrusive yet functional and often offers the rest of the cast silently observing the action taking place.

It is a piece which commands a considerable intensity, most especially in the second act (almost sunk by an odd lighting choice in a key scene which lights zones of the audience) but which is ultimately not as powerful as it aspires to be. It remains convincing for the most part, much more so than It Just Stopped (and Sewell is brave enough here to put his opinions plainly), and toys with some ideas that deserve a more thorough airing, even if it doesn't fully resolve them. The conclusion feels too rushed and stilted, especially given the first act is so much longer than the second: it is not given enough time to breathe or even for the audience to fully comprehend what has taken place. That said, it is hard to be too harsh on a play which ought to be appreciated for the impact which it commands (rare in the theatre) even if the piece itself still suffers from some problems.

CHRIS:

Perfume: The Story of a Murderer

Jean-Baptiste Grenouille (Ben Whishaw), last name pronounciation unclear, prepares for his final moments in the new film Perfume: The Story of a Murderer. He is tipping over his head the most heavenly scent ever created by the murders of the film's subtitle.

One of those novels that Dymocks would alarmingly file under 'literary fiction', Perfume was always going to be an interesting prospect on screen, given its arch style and emphasis on the world of smell. The opening of Tom Tykwer's film however almost convinces an audience that he has succeeded - after the dulcet tones of John Hurt introducing Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, we see his birth in a crowded market in Paris, amongst the filth and decrepitude of a fishmonger's stall. The narration is the guiding force in this early section of the film (it almost disappears in the middle section) as we see Grenouille's mother executed after abandoning him, and then his progress from a nasty orphanage to a tannery, all the while absorbing the world of scent around him. He doesn't communicate properly, yet his heightened sense of smell allows him much more insight into what is going on around him than those less attentive. There is a certain humour to all of these scenes, albeit a very black one, especially in the succession of deaths of those who abandon Grenouille. The humour is also amplified by the introduction of the master performer Baldini (Dustin Hoffman) who Grenouille returns to fortune with a series of wonderful perfumes (one realised particularly inventively). The main action of the film takes place in Grasse, where Grenouille finds a few method to preserve the scene of absolutely anything. It is no surprise given the subtitle of the film that he goes on to murder the young women of that town to create the perfect perfume, lusting in particular after the daughter (Rachel Hurd-Wood) of local aristocrat Richis (Alan Rickman) who spearheads the hunt for the murderer.

It is a fantastically visual film, as you would expect from the director of Run Lola Run and Heaven, but like the latter film, it suffers or a very languid pace and some overly indulgent shots, especially as the thriller element drags on. One of the final scenes in a seaside guesthouse is particularly guilty of this, with an overused fade-to-white effect and a portentuous score (penned by Tykwer himself). The acting too is questionable: Hoffman and Rickman are reliable as ever, but unfortunately Ben Whishaw and Rachel Hurd-Wood turn in one note performances which threaten to sink the film - the former sporting the most inappropriate English accent caught on screen since Scarlett Johanssen in The Prestige. The accents are a major flaw; yes the film is set in France, but most of the cast have English accents (including Rickman's Professor Snape-clone) except for Hoffman who has an indecipherable collection of American and European vocabulary and accents. Some critics have lauded the adaptation as a faithful recreation of the novel, and to an extent it is, but it suffers from a major problem in that the ending is faintly ridiculous. It is over-long, and while the very final scene boasts a certain power, the Grasse scene that precedes it - complete with overblown slow motion, pompous score and drawn-out camerawork - undercuts much of the excellent work which precedes it and lends the entire film a tinge of the ridiculous. Disappointing in a film that worked so hard on creating a distinctive mood in its first act only to see it slowly fall apart in the long second.

Which is not to say that it is not a film worth seeing nonetheless, mainly for some lavish production in the opening and a genuine attempt to bring the transient world of smell to the cinema. It is truly unfortunate that most of the film's credibility disappears along with its sense of humour after a Parisian bridge collapse, and ultimately the film feels like a wasted opportunity to create something more that Tykwer managed to deliver - which suggests that, after Heaven, an unfortunate pattern is developing.

CHRIS:

Pan's Labyrinth

Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) explores one of her imaginary worlds in Pan's Labyrinth. Like many other parts of this film, this particular scene recalls almost directly Alice in Wonderland, but the film is most definitely a much more adult version of that and other fairy-tales.

This film had been gathering some of the press of recent years for a foreign language release, and it was marketed as a sort of dark fairytale with the expected fantasy elements. As it turned out, the film is much more than that - truly violent at times, truly inspired at others, it is amongst the best I have seen for a long while. The main character is the young girl Ofelia whose mother has married an evil Captain in Franco's army (Sergei Lopez from Harry, He's Here to Help) and so has moved to his camp to have the child she is heavily pregnant with. It emerges on their trip to the country that already Ofelia has an over-active imagination: she encounters what she is adamant is a fairy in the woods. Introduced to the scary captain, she naturally retreats further into this imaginary world, led forward by a faun (clearly not of the Narnia variety) and the labyrinth that happens to be on the camp grounds. Added to this there is a local resistance group that both has a few moles in Lopez's camp and designs on desposing him. The magic sections and all of the imaginary creatures that Ofelia encounters are well-realised in what I'm sure is cutting edge animation, and the film remains completely believable throughout thanks to some excellent performances from most of the supporting characters. Lopez is given little to do but scowl and look menacing, but he makes the most of it and adds a certain poignancy to his inevitable demise. The only weak link is the mother, who is played too hysterically in the brief screen-time she is allowed. Her departure is the only point at which the film begins to feel slightly manipulative when attempting to create sympathy for a character we've barely met; thankfully the focus stays on the young Ofelia throughout.

The direction too is excellent at most times, with a very inventive sort of floating effect used in some of the cuts which suits the style of the story very well. As well, del Toro doesn't shy away from the particularly gory scenes in the latter half of the film: even the dreamscapes are rendered with a surprising degree of gore when the hand/eye monster bites the heads off the little girl's fairies for example. There's a lot of filmic and literary influences going on as well: some of the scenes recall directly a more twisted Alice in Wonderland, and the final chase scene through the maze is reminiscent of that in The Shining. None of which takes away from the brilliance of this film though; they are merely touchstones for a story about a child retreating into a fantasy to escape the real-world horror (Life is Beautiful, anyone?). And there is much horror throughout this film when the extraordinary callous captain just executes people at will and eventually resorts to some gruesome torture methods in his insane quest to impose his outlook of Franco Spain. The blood and noise of these sections is tempered by the fantasy scenes which seem an extension of nature - all of the tasks that Ofelia is set by the faun take place underground (one in a tree), the faun himself is very tree-like and so on. Some complex ideas are being thrown about here too, not just those raised directly by the plot.

In the end this film deserves all of the commendations that it has received, mainly for being a very unsparing portrait of a violent time and the perhaps unexpected consequences for the young people. And it seems too a very dark updating of a fairy-tale story, complete with an extraordinary bite of cynicism and callous violence - all still mesmerising.

CHRIS:

The Last King of Scotland

Idi Amin (Forest Whitaker) and Nicolas Garrigan (James McAvoy) meet for the first time in The Last King of Scotland. The Scot goes on to become the personal physician and personal advisor of the brutal dictator as his regime sours in 1970s Uganda.

Unfortunately it was difficult to come to this film with an open mind, as the central performance of Forest Whitaker has already won a swag of awards. Nevertheless, Kevin Macdonald has great pedigree as a documentary filmmaker (One Night in September, Touching the Void) and it really shines through in this kind of material, which (even though it is not a true story) contains enough factual material to be interesting on that level. James McAvoy (where did he come from?) is actually the centrepiece of the film; while it features Amin, it is actually the about the story of Dr. Nicolas Garrigan and his travails in Uganda. It opens convincingly enough with a stifling dinner with his parents in Scotland that would be enough to send anyone running off to Africa, and then basically cuts to his arrival in Uganda as he begins as he means to continue by bedding the girl sitting next to him on the bus. He works for a time with a doctor and his wife (played by Gillian Anderson: whatever happened to her career?) before having quite random contact with Amin and thenceforch basically being whisked away to serve as Amin's personal physician. That development, while it seems bizarre, is given credence by the fact that Garrigan is too interested in his partner's wife and in what is quite characterisation by McAvoy he is fairly listless anyway, and gives the impression that he doesn't really know what he wants in Uganda. It all goes downhill from there for Amin though Garrigan is oblivious to most things apart from Amin's third wife, and events come to a head at the Entebbe incident, with a particularly gruesome torture scene (much more so than Casino Royale's effort) and then an ending that seemed lifted from Platoon.

It is indeed a performance of immense depth and power from Forest Whitaker, and the footage of the real Amin at the end of the film only seems to emphasise this feat. He also does a rather impressive trick with his eye which, if not natural, is a great length to go to for character's sake. He must be a huge man in reality too, for it is his physical as much as his vocal and intellectual might that seems to dominate all around him. He also brings out in Amin this idea that he is actually quite a childish man, though trapped in this huge bulk of a body and with a huge concept of himself to boot. Interestingly, this film is a two-hander at heart: while Amin's wives and goons fill out the cast, it is him and Garrigan who come to dominate the film - there is a very strange reintroduction of the Gillian Anderson character at one point which seems misjudged and is more confusing than anything else given we only see twenty seconds of her. There were only three problems I had with the film: firstly, I am prepared to ccept the McAvoy character was a naif, but to such a hopeless degree perhaps not; I don't know too much about the actual history but I think events were telescoped without much clarification (how long was it from the coup to Entebbe anyway?); and finally the conclusion for me didn't match up to the rest of the film: the violence is so swift and horrific - though that is doubtless the point - and then the conclusion seems a little rushed (how Garrigan thought his plan would ever work...).

But these are minor quibbles in the end with what is an entertaining and involving film, as well as being quite horrifying at times. The documentarist's eye for underplaying and shoring up central narrative with references to the outside world suits the film very well, and all up it is an enjoyable as well as being an intense experience in the cinema.

CHRIS:

Children of Men

I was tremendously excited about the prospect of this film - headlined by three of major favourite actors (Clive Owen, Julianne Moore and Michael Caine) and directed by Mexican Alfonso Cuaron (Y Tu Mama Tambien and Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban) - so I'm happy to admit from the outset that my expectations were very high. And the opening sequence, set in a coffee bar in a 2027 London, only served to confirm my suspicions: grimy, dank and yet utterly, utterly convincing. Then I remembered Sin City, and the dangers of assuming the start of the film will be indicative of the rest of it. Thankfully, unlike the Rodrieguez/Miller picture, Children of Men maintains a lot of its brillance through its length. Unfortunately, it never quite maintains the engagement of those opening minutes, at least in cohesive terms: there are a few shots towards the end of such techincal audacity that they are simply breathtaking.

Thank You For Smoking

CHRIS: "Michael Jordan plays ball. Charles Manson kills people. I talk." So says Nick Naylor, bizarrely the hero of the new film Thank You For Smoking, directed by Jason Reitman (son to Ivan Ghostbusters Reitman, though don't mention it too much). And what a brave and hilarious decision it was to make a film in which we're actively asked to sympathise with a man who makes his living telling people how great cigarettes are - chief spokesman for Big Tobacco. But the lines come thick and fast, and this is satire of the highest order, right up there with Wag the Dog for spot-on satire. Like that film, there are times when the film soars, but it is a victim also of its cracker pacing at the start in that it begins to drag in the middle. Luckily for this film, the cynicism and wit returns for the ending (the lack thereof being what soured the Levinson film) and it goes out on a very high note. The performances are uniformly excellent, and it is a very pleasurable film experience.

Chris: Four stars.

Full review to follow...

Embers (Sydney Theatre Company)

Annie Byron as one of the ensemble cast in the very Australian story of Embers. A piece of documentary theatre telling the story of the bushfires that changed the region of northern Victoria forever, the play is a coproduction between the Sydney Theatre Company and HotHouse Theatre, based in Albury-Wodonga.

CHRIS: Review coming soon!