Spectre (2015)

Since 2006, James Bond’s primary mission has been to reinvent himself for the 21^st Century, and each film since then has had a different approach to the task. Casino Royale went for a smoky, stripped-down feel; Quantum of Solace cranked up the action and drifted into Jason Bourne territory (The Bond Supremacy); and Skyfall addressed the idea of a played-out, man-out-of-time Bond going up against the alien threat of cyber-terrorism. With Skyfall director Sam Mendes returning to helm Spectre, it seemed entirely possible that the new film would simply be a re-tread of its predecessor, but – thankfully - Spectre sets out to establish its own unique identity.

We catch up with Bond (Daniel Craig) in Mexico. A message left for him by the deceased M (Judi Dench) has sent Bond to kill a criminal named Sciarra, and the subsequent funeral brings Bond face to face with Sciarra’s shadowy employers: SPECTRE. Attempting to uncover more about the organisation, Bond tracks down his old enemy Mr White (Jesper Christensen), who begs Bond to protect his daughter, Dr Madeleine Swann (Lea Seydoux), from assassination. As Bond and Madeleine are drawn closer to a showdown with SPECTRE’s mysterious leader (Christoph Waltz), they uncover a plan to unleash a dangerous new surveillance system that could threaten the very existence of MI6.

SPECTRE (Special Executive for Counter-Terrorism, Revenge and Extortion) was a fixture of the early Bond films (it featured in six of the first seven movies), which meant that this film was almost certain to cover some old ground. And it does; Spectre marks the return of several well-worn Bond hallmarks, and there are several moments that subtly recall older movies: the chase through a parade, the fight on a train, and the health clinic perched atop an Austrian mountain, to name a few. However, rather than seeming old hat, these are there simply to reassure us that this is indeed a Bond film, as Spectre takes the series down paths that none of the previous films have dared to tread.

Perhaps the most striking thing about Spectre is its atmosphere. Many Bond films have a certain unique feel about them, but none come close to the downright eeriness that permeates Spectre from the very beginning, when the familiar gunbarrell sequence fades away to reveal the words “The dead are alive” displayed on the screen. This atmosphere is sustained throughout the entire film, assisted by cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema’s muted colour palette. If I had to use one word to describe the overall mood of Spectre, it would be ‘funereal’.

It’s not all doom and gloom, though, and Spectre balances the darker elements with a keen sense of humour that has sometimes been missing during Daniel Craig’s tenure. Craig himself seems relaxed and comfortable in the role of Bond; it should be pointed out that this is the first time that the character of James Bond has been allowed to develop across a series of films, and watching Craig’s 007 go from a hot-headed, ruthlessly efficient young agent to a softened – if slightly curmudgeonly – middle aged Bond has been a joy. I hope he sticks around.

Elsewhere, it should come as no surprise that Christoph Waltz is playing Bond’s arch-nemesis Ernst Stavro Blofeld, who was last seen being dumped down an industrial chimney in For Your Eyes Only. It could be argued that Blofeld is most effective as an unseen presence pulling the strings from afar, but Waltz’s assured performance – which alternates effortlessly between charming and sinister – ensures that the character comes across as a genuine supervillain without straying into Dr Evil territory (no sharks with lasers attached to their heads, sadly). Lea Seydoux brings vulnerability and humanity to the part of Madeleine, and former WWE World Heavyweight Champion Dave Bautista is a natural fit for the role of hulking henchman Mr Hinx. Returning from Skyfall, Ralph Fiennes (M), Naomie Harris (Moneypenny), Ben Whishaw (Q) and Rory Kinnear (Bill Tanner) are consistently strong, while Andrew Scott (Sherlock’s Moriarty) gives an admirably restrained performance as the shifty government official Max Denbigh.

So the Bond train rolls on, defying its age to prove its continuing appeal to audiences. Spectre is by no means a perfect film – it could have been shorter, and bears signs of last-minute script tinkering – but, most importantly, it proves that the series is committed to seeking out new ground while staying true to its core values. Old dog, new tricks.

Whose Line is it Anyway?...Live

On Sunday 9^th June I attended Whose Line Is it Anyway?...Live at the London Palladium. It was a dream come true; even though the original Whose Line TV show ended in 1998, I became aware of it when Dave (or the Top Gear channel) started airing reruns several years ago. I was hooked, and with the exception of The Simpsons I don’t think I have seen anything funnier on TV. I attended the show hoping that this live version would live up to my memories of the TV incarnation.

A bit of background: Whose Line is it Anyway? was an improvisational comedy programme that ran on Channel 4 between 1988-1998. Four performers would be called upon to act out a series of improvisation games, often based on suggestions from the audience and host Clive Anderson. Originally the show had an extremely highbrow tone (frequent panellists included Stephen Fry and John Sessions), but over time the programme leaned towards a broader, less exclusive style of comedy, which came to be embodied by series regulars Colin Mochrie and Ryan Stiles. Whose Line was such a success that it was eventually transplanted wholesale to the United States, where it can still be seen today.

The stage version of the show had been advertised as a combination of both the UK and US versions, which was fine with me as I love them both. Performing would be the incredibly quick-witted Colin Mochrie, the razor sharp Greg Proops, the wonderful Josie Lawrence, the delightful Brad Sherwood, and the effortlessly suave Jeff Davis. Clive Anderson would handle hosting duties, and the music (also improvised) would be performed by Laura Hall on piano and Linda Taylor on guitar.

Entering the grand yet surprisingly intimate London Palladium, I was interested to see that the audience was mostly made up of people under 30, many of whom (like myself) would not have been born when Whose Line first aired. Surveying the crowd, I noticed a pair of faces peeking out from a door at the side of the stage, who I recognised as series creators Mark Leveson and Dan Patterson. As the theatre gradually filled up, they looked both delighted and slightly humbled.

Before I could decide whether or not to go over and bother them with questions, the house lights dimmed, the music playing over the PA system was suddenly replaced with a live piano, and we were underway. The first thing that struck me as the performers made their way on to the stage was that none of them seemed to have aged since 1998. But it wasn't just their appearances that hadn’t changed; their comic talents had also been unaffected by the passing years. Greg and Clive reanimated their friendly US vs UK banter, and Josie, Brad and Jeff all distinguished themselves during the musical games. Colin, meanwhile, proved that he is still hilarious without Ryan Stiles, displaying superb chemistry with all the other performers. Although the show was essentially the comedy equivalent of a greatest hits parade (all the great games like Party Quirks, World’s Worst and Hoedown were played), there were some new ones (including a game called Handbags, where two audience members volunteered their handbags to the improvisers, who then used the often-embarrassing and sometimes inexplicable contents as props in a sketch), and plenty of opportunities for audience interaction.

All in all, this was a great show. The cast have been working together for decades now and clearly enjoy each other’s company, and it’s always gratifying to watch people who are the very best at what they do. The production had a suitably loose, off-the-cuff feel, replicating the rawness of the British TV show as opposed to the slickness of the American version. Also, the very nature of the show means that you could, if you wanted, go to every show and see a totally different performance each time! It’s a tempting idea, but I’m happy to wait until their next run of shows. Since Whose Line is it Anyway? clearly remains immensely popular, I‘m sure that they’ll be back sooner rather than later.

Monty Python's The Meaning of Life (1983)

There are some things that, for whatever reason, just go together. Eggs and bacon, tea and biscuits, chips and mayonnaise (much better than ketchup). It’s especially impressive when this extraordinary degree of chemistry occurs between people, and this is undoubtedly the case with the six members of the legendary comedy troupe Monty Python. With a ground-breaking TV show (Monty Python’s Flying Circus) and two wonderful feature films (Monty Python and the Holy Grail and Monty Python’s Life of Brian) already under their belts, in 1983 Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Terry Gilliam, Eric Idle, Terry Jones and Michael Palin turned their attention to their most ambitious project yet: The Meaning of Life.

In keeping with the Python tradition of doing things the unconventional way, The Meaning of Life does not have a plot. Instead, the film is broken up into segments dealing with the different stages of life: The Miracle of Birth, Growth and Learning, Fighting Each Other, Middle Age, Live Organ Transplants (of course), The Autumn Years, and Death. It could be argued that the film suffers from the absence of a story or a central character (the straight leading parts played by Graham Chapman in Holy Grail and Life of Brian played a crucial role in anchoring the craziness), but the sketches are woven together so skilfully the that the lack of a narrative becomes a non-issue.

The sketch-based format is reminiscent of the original TV show, and, like on that show, some work better than others. However, that’s actually part of the appeal. One of the great aspects of Flying Circus was that the sketches tended to either work perfectly or fall spectacularly flat; mediocrity was not an option. Fortunately the highs vastly outnumber the lows; there are the doctors who are too busy showing off their expensive hospital equipment to pay any attention to their patient; a vicar who leads his congregation through an excessively grovelling prayer (“Forgive us for this our dreadful toadying” Congregation: “And barefaced flattery”); a one-sided boys vs schoolmasters rugby match at a terrifying boarding school; a platoon of soldiers who decide to throw their captain a surprise party in the middle of a battle; and memorable musical numbers like "The Galaxy Song" and "Every Sperm is Sacred". The Python brand of humour is sometimes taken to extremes (see the morbidly obese Mr Creosote, who vomits all over a posh restaurant before eating so much that he explodes; or a humourless schoolmaster’s alarmingly frank sex education lesson; not to mention the aforementioned Live Organ Transplants, which is exactly what it sounds like and twice as gory), but there is something liberating about the way in which the film refuses to shy away from taboo subjects like death and sex. England is famous for Not Really Talking About That Sort Of Thing, so it’s nice to get it all out in the open.

Monty’ Python’s The Meaning of Life is a glorious mess, and a last hurrah of sorts for the venerable comedy troupe. While its extremely irreverent brand of humour won’t be for everyone, you get the sense that the Pythons had a strange fondness for the various institutions that they poked fun at, and this prevents the comedy from ever seeming cruel. This underlying warmth is best displayed when the meaning of life is revealed at the end of the film:

“Well, it’s nothing special really. Try and be nice to people, avoid eating fat, read a good book every now and then, get some walking in, and try to live in peace and harmony with people of all creeds and nations.”

And that just about sums it up!

Mini-Review: The Crimson Permanent Assurance (1983)

Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life is supported by this short feature directed by Terry Gilliam, about the ageing members of a small company who decide overthrow their new owners, The Very Big Corporation of America. It’s a wonderfully imaginative swashbuckling adventure, and the special effects are still impressive more than three decades later.

Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (2016)

 

Incredibly, it’s now been nearly sixteen years since X-Men began the incredible (and somewhat exhausting) avalanche of superhero films that continues to this day. Since then, we have seen all kinds of comic book characters make the jump to the big screen, from household names like Spider-Man and The Incredible Hulk, to relative obscurities like Ant-Man and the Guardians of the Galaxy. But while the Marvel Cinematic Universe has gone from strength to strength, DC Comics has had a tougher time establishing itself as a big-screen force; it had a major success with the popular Dark Knight trilogy, but what DC really wants is a cinematic universe to call its own. Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice is the first step towards achieving that goal, but does it stand up as a film in its own right? Let’s take a look!

After a quick run-through of Batman’s origin story (theatre, dark alley, mugger, gunshots, dead parents, well-full-of-bats, etc.) we jump forward in time to the city of Metropolis, where a helpless Bruce Wayne witnesses the destruction of a Wayne Enterprises building during Superman’s battle with General Zod from the end of Man of Steel. It’s an effective sequence that clearly establishes Batman’s issue with Superman, and we soon learn that Superman is to face a government investigation regarding his role in the destruction. Meanwhile, the villainous Lex Luthor has found some Kryptonite, and plans to use it as part of a twisted genetic experiment. Upon learning this, Batman steals the Kryptonite in order to destroy Superman once and for all, while Luthor manipulates Superman onto a collision course with the Caped Crusader.

As you can see, there’s a lot going on in this film, and I pity the poor overworked soul who had edit all of this together; not only does it need to establish a new Batman, it also aims to introduce us to the entire DC Universe, act as a sequel to Man of Steel, set up a future Justice League film, and provide a satisfying conflict between Batman and Superman. Whereas Marvel spent eight years slowly building towards a showdown between Iron Man and Captain America, Dawn of Justice has  to accomplish the same feat – and plenty of others - in just one film, and as a result the movie often feels jumbled and unfocused. There is an awkwardly place flash-forward scene in which a trench-coated Batman runs around shooting at people in a desert (?), as well as strange, shoehorned-in cameos from Aquaman and The Flash. At times it feels like the film is suffering an identity crisis, torn between being Batman v Superman or Dawn of Justice.

Happily, the last third of the film sees everything finally fall into place. Having spent the first two acts slowly (so very slowly) moving the pieces into place, the movie palpably shifts gears, cranking up the action while managing to tie all of the dangling plot threads together. This section of Dawn of Justice is truly a great spectacle, and redeems the film somewhat after the glacial pace of the early sections.

Pacing problems aside, where Batman v Superman really shines is in the performances. Ben Affleck as Bruce Wayne/Batman is superb; you really get the sense that has been worn-down by twenty years of crime fighting in the frankly hellish Gotham City. His Batman is a truly frightening creature, and the scene in which he is introduced is like something out of a horror film. So bitter and vicious is this version of the Dark Knight that you wonder whether Bruce really cares about fighting crime at all, or if hunting down criminals is simply a means for him to vent his bottomless well of rage. Superman gets slightly less attention, but comes across as a man who only sees in black and white trapped in a world of grey areas. He is genuinely trying to use his powers for good, but cannot see that the consequences of his actions can often be devastating. The star of the supporting cast has to be Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman, making the most of a small but effective role, while Amy Adams and Jeremy Irons give good performances as Lois Lane and Alfred Pennyworth, respectively. Jesse Eisenberg as Lex Luthor sometimes becomes slightly grating, but you can tell that he is totally invested in the role.

As a film in its own right, Batman v Superman is less than the sum of its parts; a collection of interesting characters and ideas presented in a strange and incoherent narrative. However, as an introduction to the DC Universe the film is much more successful. Director Zack Snyder and his team establish a world that is distinct and different from the Marvel Universe, and create endless possibilities for sequels and spinoffs (the prospect of solo films for Batman and Wonder Woman is particularly exciting). The sometimes excessively dark tone might have to be toned down in future instalments (the moment when someone finally cracks a joke, a full two hours into the film, is quite jarring), but it is good that DC is trying to find a unique identity for its films as opposed to simply aping the Marvel approach, which must have been tempting. It is entirely possible that, once the DC Universe is fully established on the big screen, we will look back on Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice as the beginning of something truly special.

Licence To Kill (1989)

Bond with a difference

What do you expect when you go to see a James Bond film? There are some things that surely have to be there: action, romance, gadgets, a supervillain, a vodka martini, at least one huge explosion. It’s a time tested formula and it works. But are all of these ingredients necessary? How many of them could you remove before the film stops being a Bond film at all? These are the questions posed by Licence To Kill, arguably the most unique and different film in the series to this day.

The story is unusually straightforward. After Bond (Timothy Dalton) and his CIA friend Felix Leiter (David Hedison) foil the plans of drug baron Franz Sanchez (Robert Davi), Sanchez has Leiter attacked and his wife murdered. Devastated, Bond resigns from MI6 and sets off on a mission of personal revenge. Assisted by DEA agent Pam Bouvier (Carey Lowell), 007 infiltrates Sanchez’ operation and attempts to bring it down from the inside, in the process uncovering Sanchez’ plan to expand his drug empire across the Pacific and into Asia.

This may sound like a generic action film plot, but that’s what separates it from previous 007 outings. In Bond films the story can often seem like an excuse for Bond tojet around the world and do various exciting things; it doesn’t matter if you don’t follow the plot too closely. Here, the story is front and centre, and it unfolds clearly and logically. Particularly intriguing is the way in which Bond infiltrates the villain’s organization and manipulates him into eliminating most of his own henchmen. This plot device is by no means new – films such as Yojimbo (1961) and its Italian remake A Fistful of Dollars (1964) pioneered it – but it had never been used in a Bond film, and in this new context it feels fresh and exciting.

Another change from the norm is the presentation of James Bond himself. Having spent twelve years with the debonair Roger Moore in the role, audiences were reluctant to embrace Timothy Dalton, whose performance in The Living Daylights (1987) was the polar opposite of his suave predecessor. Dalton plays Bond as a reluctant assassin, who seems vaguely disgusted by the job he performs with such efficiency. It’s a realistic, grounded performance, and of all the Bonds Dalton is the only one I can imagine existing in real life. I can even imagine him doing mundane everyday things like laundry, grocery shopping, filling out a passport renewal form, voting to elect a new local member of parliament, going to the dentist, etc. Is this a good thing? It depends on your point of view, but it’s certainly different.

Dalton is ably assisted by a strong supporting cast of colourful supporting characters. Carey Lowell’s Pam Bouvier is a strong and capable field agent who, refreshingly, is portrayed as Bond’s equal and saves his life on more than one occasion. Robert Davi as Sanchez makes for a uniquely complex villain, ultimately undone by his outmoded sense of loyalty. Especially impressive is Benicio Del Toro as Sanchez’ henchman Dario; it’s a small role, but Del Toro just exudes menace. Comic relief is provided by the dependable Desmond Llewellyn as Q, rewarded for 26 years’ service with a large supporting role.

Licence To Kill is and always has been my favourite James Bond film. While it does occasionally drift into generic late-80s action-movie territory, it more than makes up for this by mounting a committed attempt to do something fresh and new with a series that many felt was passed its sell-by date in 1989. Unfortunately, stiff competition at the box office from Batman, Lethal Weapon 2, and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade hurt the film’s drawing power (all subsequent Bond films have been released in the autumn to avoid competition from summer blockbusters) and complicated legal issues were to keep Bond off the big screen for the next six years, by which time Timothy Dalton had moved on and the series was ready to change course with Pierce Brosnan in the lead role. In 2006, Daniel Craig became James Bond, playing the secret agent in a hard-edged style very similar to that introduced by Dalton two decades before; this time the public was ready, and Craig’s performance won praise from all sides. We can only imagine what course the series would have taken had Dalton’s time in the role not been cut short, but we still have Licence To Kill: a daring and hugely rewarding James Bond adventure.

Keith Richards: Under the Influence (2015)

The Man Behind the Myth

In 2010, Rolling Stones guitarist Keith Richards released Life, his long-awaited autobiography. The book was a great read for Rolling Stones fans such as myself, but only succeeded in blurring the line between Keith Richards the myth (a drug-fuelled rock & roll pirate with a guitar) and Keith Richards the man (his book includes a recipe for bangers & mash, and Keith reveals that he warms up for concerts by listening to Mozart). As much as Life seemed inclined to portray its central character as a bit of a cartoon character, it also hinted at a layered and sensitive soul who seemed slightly frustrated at how he had been pigeonholed in public perception. Under the Influence, despite its title, seems to prove that this is the case.

This documentary, however, is not simply a film version of Life, but the story of Richards’ long love affair with music. Framed by a discussion with Anthony DeCurtis about his new album, the film joins Keith on a musical journey to pay tribute to the styles that have influenced him over the years; from the scintillating electric blues of Chicago, to the dreamy country music of Nashville, to the earthy reggae of Jamaica. Along the way we meet friends and contemporaries such as the eccentric Tom Waits (who seems to be something of a kindred spirit to Richards), blues legend Buddy Guy, and guitar technician Pierre de Beauport, who is employed for the purpose of maintaining and keeping track of the hundreds of guitars that Richards owns.

 Keith’s travels yield many highlights. We see archive footage of the young Rolling Stones bringing the great bluesman Howlin’ Wolf to perform on American chart show Shindig!, in front of an audience comprised almost entirely of teenagers. What could easily have been a disaster becomes a triumph as the 6’3”, 54 year-old Wolf – dressed for church – wins the entire room over with a rousing performance of “How Many More Years?” in a wonderful moment.  Keith also takes the time to demonstrate how he achieved the distinctive guitar sound on the Stones’ “Street Fighting Man”, playing an acoustic guitar into a cassette recorder and then playing that into an amplifier. Most rewarding of all, however, is the sheer, unaffected joy that Richards evokes when playing music or discussing an artist he loves. It’s infectious, as if he always took care to keep his inner child alive.

The film is also a huge success on a technical level; it’s filmed beautifully, and the entire production has a feeling of intimacy and warmth. The soundtrack is unsurprisingly superb, and could easily have been released as an album. Director Morgan Neville also deserves credit for getting his subject to relax and feel at ease in front of the cameras – I imagine this must be quite a hard thing to do.

All in all, this is a lovely film that I thoroughly recommend. Keith Richards comes across as no more or less than a happy old man, content with his lot and at peace with his eccentricities (the glass he drinks from has a skull & crossbones on it. Maybe he is a pirate after all!). In simply getting him to play music and talk about things he is passionate about, Morgan Neville has painted a clearer picture of the man than a 564-page book. Well done!