I sat down to watch Dai-Nihonjin (Big Man Japan) without being allowed to see the DVD box. Furthermore, my co-watcher made me look away even as he scrolled through the DVD menu. When I asked if I could have a hint as to the film plot, he scowled at me. He wanted to keep as much as possible left as a surprise for me.
A surprise it was. Daisato (Matsumoto) is a 40-something year old in Japan, who appears to be almost a tramp. As the camera follows him around, documenting his every day activities, we learn his wife has left him, that he only sees his daughter periodically, and that the work he does pays nowhere near enough for him to live comfortably. We also learn that he is a sad and confused man, who likes umbrellas and dried seaweed because of their ability to go from small to large.
But then the film takes two turns to the surreal: first we discover Daisato's employment. Next, as we think he might be finally learning to excel at it, we see him strangely miss out on any kind of achievement. Vague? Well, I'm glad I wasn't warned, because the surprise factor in watching this made me cry with laughter. It's totally strange and otherworldly and yet also totally mundane and hilarious, especially as most of the footage is faux-documentary and what we see of Daisato and then what he says clash so obviously that it's hard not to giggle.
It's also moving; it raises that question as to whether we should be amused by someone so washed up. Does Daisato cross the line from pathetic to hilarious or not quite? Even as we watch and laugh at the larger plot revelations, we discover more about his own life, his relationship with his father and grandfather and the choices he has made that have led him to this deplorable state. It's touching, and the documentary filming technique makes the questions ever so soulless, which in itself adds to the emotion.
Watch it, but don't read anything about it first.
~~~
2007
Hitoshi Matsumoto
Written and directed by Histoshi Matsumoto
Tuesday 30 March 2010
Shutter Island
The more I watch and review, the more my ignorance of all things cinematic becomes apparent. But I can't say I'm not enjoying learning that I know so little; I like the challenge of trying to learn more.
So, how to review a film that was both a joy to watch and yet also depends entirely on mystery for audience engagement? How much can I say? Well, this: Teddy Daniels (DiCaprio), a US Marshall, together with his partner Chuck (Ruffalo), sets out to Shutter Island from Boston, to investigate the case of a missing girl. The island houses the criminally insane, three wards for cases declared ultimately incurable, where Dr. Cawley (Kingsley) uses radical methods to attempt to rehabilitate and 'cure' his patients. So Daniels and Chuck begin to investigate the island, and see if they can turn up any clues as to this girl's disappearance.
The pacing is beautiful from the offing: we know something's up and Teddy is clearly concerned, but the tension is left to simmer, as we, like Teddy, try to piece together the hints and signs. Point-of-view from Teddy as well gives us a sense of the place, and quickly even the most mundane of acts, like sweeping leaves, seems loaded; the guards and patients are intimidating just to look at.
The camera-work is nothing short of scintillating either; throughout the film there are sequences of 'mess', where flames or rain or hail or leaves or dust or ash fly across the shot, framing the action with their own activity. It's obvious enough to be arresting, but not to be invasive. I was fully aware of the intensity of such shots, but they did not seem too clichéd. They seemed to evoke me a rather knowing nod that I was watching something particularly masterful.
And on mastery, the performances are also something to be marvelled at. I'm tempted to say this was Leo's greatest performance (though some might want to posit What's Eating Gilbert Grape? or The Departed or even Blood Diamond if you can ignore bad accents); Kingsley and Ruffalo are spot on throughout, and the shifts in Kingsley from benign to threatening are so subtly performed as to be thoroughly chilling. It's their performances that leave one feeling like this wasn't simply a DiCaprio showcase but something far more coherent and controlled; that Scorsese knows how to get sound and light and colour and action all pulling together to take the audience by the throat and drag them bodily into his story.
The conclusion of the film: phenomenal. A reveal that was both painfully obvious and yet adroitly handled. A truth that bordered on the pat but deftly swung away from it. A final denouement, as well, that left me and my fellow audience members divided as to its outcome. And my conclusion: I'd recommend this to anyone.
~~~
2010
Leonardo DiCaprio, Ben Kingsley, Mark Ruffalo
Written by Laeta Kalogridis
Dir. Martin Scorsese
So, how to review a film that was both a joy to watch and yet also depends entirely on mystery for audience engagement? How much can I say? Well, this: Teddy Daniels (DiCaprio), a US Marshall, together with his partner Chuck (Ruffalo), sets out to Shutter Island from Boston, to investigate the case of a missing girl. The island houses the criminally insane, three wards for cases declared ultimately incurable, where Dr. Cawley (Kingsley) uses radical methods to attempt to rehabilitate and 'cure' his patients. So Daniels and Chuck begin to investigate the island, and see if they can turn up any clues as to this girl's disappearance.
The pacing is beautiful from the offing: we know something's up and Teddy is clearly concerned, but the tension is left to simmer, as we, like Teddy, try to piece together the hints and signs. Point-of-view from Teddy as well gives us a sense of the place, and quickly even the most mundane of acts, like sweeping leaves, seems loaded; the guards and patients are intimidating just to look at.
The camera-work is nothing short of scintillating either; throughout the film there are sequences of 'mess', where flames or rain or hail or leaves or dust or ash fly across the shot, framing the action with their own activity. It's obvious enough to be arresting, but not to be invasive. I was fully aware of the intensity of such shots, but they did not seem too clichéd. They seemed to evoke me a rather knowing nod that I was watching something particularly masterful.
And on mastery, the performances are also something to be marvelled at. I'm tempted to say this was Leo's greatest performance (though some might want to posit What's Eating Gilbert Grape? or The Departed or even Blood Diamond if you can ignore bad accents); Kingsley and Ruffalo are spot on throughout, and the shifts in Kingsley from benign to threatening are so subtly performed as to be thoroughly chilling. It's their performances that leave one feeling like this wasn't simply a DiCaprio showcase but something far more coherent and controlled; that Scorsese knows how to get sound and light and colour and action all pulling together to take the audience by the throat and drag them bodily into his story.
The conclusion of the film: phenomenal. A reveal that was both painfully obvious and yet adroitly handled. A truth that bordered on the pat but deftly swung away from it. A final denouement, as well, that left me and my fellow audience members divided as to its outcome. And my conclusion: I'd recommend this to anyone.
~~~
2010
Leonardo DiCaprio, Ben Kingsley, Mark Ruffalo
Written by Laeta Kalogridis
Dir. Martin Scorsese
Sunday 14 March 2010
Moon
Duncan Jones's Moon, which rightly earned him a Brit for best newcomer this year, sees Sam Bell (Sam Rockwell) as astronaut working for Lunar Industries on the dark side of the moon. He is reaching the end of a three year contract mining for energy deposits in the moon rock, and longs to return home to his wife and young child. But an unfortunate accident causes Bell's situation to take a turn for the worse, and suddenly the comfort of his moon-base is transformed into a hall of riddles.
I don't want to spoil a plot that unfolds fairly linearly but is a delight nonetheless with a couple of great revelations. Instead, it has to be noted that Rockwell's performance is nothing short of consummate. He shows off a diversity and depth that is demanded by what is practically a one man film, and rises to the challenges of isolation impressively. Jones also captures that mood of isolation very effectively, with scenes of silence as Bell wanders the station, filling his time as best he can as he counts down the final two weeks.
As for the style of the film, it was something reminiscent of Danny Boyle's 2007 Sunshine, a modern sci-fi thriller that re-explores what our future beyond Earth might be like. But while Sunshine went out of its way to invert expectations as to what space travel or space-suits might be like (remember these?), Moon sits more closely to traditional expectations. Food is boil-in-the-bag; Bell plays ping-pong and does woodcarving. There's a simplicity and a lack of sci-fi shockers that heightens the sense of tension and isolation that Jones has strived for, and attained.
And all this complemented by a lovely, repetitive score, which, of course, mirrors something of Bell's own situation, and gives that sense of loneliness, and is only broken by three moments in the film: twice his alarm clock blares out a garish song, and once when he insists on dancing rather maniacally for thirty seconds or so. All told, the elements of this film pull together towards a mood, a sensation, an intensity, that is rarely seen. It was a shame it didn't receive a broader release.
~~~
2009
Sam Rockwell
dir. Duncan Jones
I don't want to spoil a plot that unfolds fairly linearly but is a delight nonetheless with a couple of great revelations. Instead, it has to be noted that Rockwell's performance is nothing short of consummate. He shows off a diversity and depth that is demanded by what is practically a one man film, and rises to the challenges of isolation impressively. Jones also captures that mood of isolation very effectively, with scenes of silence as Bell wanders the station, filling his time as best he can as he counts down the final two weeks.
As for the style of the film, it was something reminiscent of Danny Boyle's 2007 Sunshine, a modern sci-fi thriller that re-explores what our future beyond Earth might be like. But while Sunshine went out of its way to invert expectations as to what space travel or space-suits might be like (remember these?), Moon sits more closely to traditional expectations. Food is boil-in-the-bag; Bell plays ping-pong and does woodcarving. There's a simplicity and a lack of sci-fi shockers that heightens the sense of tension and isolation that Jones has strived for, and attained.
And all this complemented by a lovely, repetitive score, which, of course, mirrors something of Bell's own situation, and gives that sense of loneliness, and is only broken by three moments in the film: twice his alarm clock blares out a garish song, and once when he insists on dancing rather maniacally for thirty seconds or so. All told, the elements of this film pull together towards a mood, a sensation, an intensity, that is rarely seen. It was a shame it didn't receive a broader release.
~~~
2009
Sam Rockwell
dir. Duncan Jones
In The Loop
Swearing is often not to everyone's taste. Indeed, excessive swearing can go so far as to detract from an otherwise good script or plot. Yet In The Loop, the film that carries some of the characters from the British political satire The Thick of It into their first feature, not only hits that 'excessive swearing' barrier, but careens through it with such vigour, it comes out the other side still running.
Malcolm Tucker (Peter Capaldi), Head of Communications to the PM, sends the Secretary of State for International Development, Simon Foster (Tom Hollander), on a fact finding mission to the US after a series of disastrous interviews have placed the latter in a rather precarious position with regard to the inevitability of war. Meanwhile, Tucker himself also heads to Washington to pull strings and oil the political machine. A series of twists and turns make war seem not only inevitable but imminent, and Foster is forced to the sidelines as he watches things fall apart before his eyes, ineffectually assisted by his own Coms officer, Judy Molloy, and the new bug, Toby Wright (Gina McKee & Chris Addison).
Judy is dour and worn-down by Tucker's verbal gymnastics. Foster gamely tries to make a stand, and indeed once remarks "I'm on the verge of taking a stand", to the scorn of those around him. Meanwhile, Toby is utterly dislikeable: he's callous and bumbling, and it seems as though the only reason he's got the job he has is through a horrid combination of backstabbing and brown-nosing. Certainly that is what he spends most of his time doing while working for Foster.
But of course, the show is stolen by Capaldi. His Tucker is now gaining a strong reputation in Britain and further afield, not just for the coarseness of his language, but his sheer inventiveness when it comes to insults. He seems never caught off his guard, and to the four writers' credit, they've created a beast of a man who becomes both anti-hero and anti-Christ as he drags the UK towards agreeing to go to war. And yet, for all that, the character is somehow likeable. If not likeable, then admirable. There's a certain poetry to how much Tucker doles out. Even coming head to head with David Rasche or James Gandolfini (big hitters in the US political scene, we are meant to understand), he stands his ground, just about. Then as he tangles with smaller fry, like Anna Chlumsky or Paul Higgins, it's deliciously shocking how rude he can be on first meeting.
A perfectly solid effort, funny throughout, darkly so, and with an undercurrent of chill when one considers our own recent history. It's a noble effort to suggest that governments may be riddled to the highest level with incompetence and personality clashes and yet still draw out a smile. Or is that just a warning that we're laughing at the wrong things?
~~~
2009
Peter Capaldi, Tom Hollander, Gina McKee, Chris Addison, James Gandolfini
dir. Armando Iannucci
Malcolm Tucker (Peter Capaldi), Head of Communications to the PM, sends the Secretary of State for International Development, Simon Foster (Tom Hollander), on a fact finding mission to the US after a series of disastrous interviews have placed the latter in a rather precarious position with regard to the inevitability of war. Meanwhile, Tucker himself also heads to Washington to pull strings and oil the political machine. A series of twists and turns make war seem not only inevitable but imminent, and Foster is forced to the sidelines as he watches things fall apart before his eyes, ineffectually assisted by his own Coms officer, Judy Molloy, and the new bug, Toby Wright (Gina McKee & Chris Addison).
Judy is dour and worn-down by Tucker's verbal gymnastics. Foster gamely tries to make a stand, and indeed once remarks "I'm on the verge of taking a stand", to the scorn of those around him. Meanwhile, Toby is utterly dislikeable: he's callous and bumbling, and it seems as though the only reason he's got the job he has is through a horrid combination of backstabbing and brown-nosing. Certainly that is what he spends most of his time doing while working for Foster.
But of course, the show is stolen by Capaldi. His Tucker is now gaining a strong reputation in Britain and further afield, not just for the coarseness of his language, but his sheer inventiveness when it comes to insults. He seems never caught off his guard, and to the four writers' credit, they've created a beast of a man who becomes both anti-hero and anti-Christ as he drags the UK towards agreeing to go to war. And yet, for all that, the character is somehow likeable. If not likeable, then admirable. There's a certain poetry to how much Tucker doles out. Even coming head to head with David Rasche or James Gandolfini (big hitters in the US political scene, we are meant to understand), he stands his ground, just about. Then as he tangles with smaller fry, like Anna Chlumsky or Paul Higgins, it's deliciously shocking how rude he can be on first meeting.
A perfectly solid effort, funny throughout, darkly so, and with an undercurrent of chill when one considers our own recent history. It's a noble effort to suggest that governments may be riddled to the highest level with incompetence and personality clashes and yet still draw out a smile. Or is that just a warning that we're laughing at the wrong things?
~~~
2009
Peter Capaldi, Tom Hollander, Gina McKee, Chris Addison, James Gandolfini
dir. Armando Iannucci
Saturday 13 March 2010
The Magnificent Seven
Over the last ten years, 'remake' has become a bit of a buzzword for cashing in on a franchise for a quick blockbuster buck. Consider Rambo as an example: it widely missed the mark of what made the first film excellent; it misjudged what it was to revive an idea and a character. Not so with The Magnificent Seven. In fact a film like this one is probably a contributing factor as to why remakes are even palatable at all: it essentially understands its subject matter and story (Kurosawa's 1954 Shichinin no samurai - Seven Samurai) but in transporting it to a new setting and reviving the characters it adds and develops plot, flavour and meaning in a vibrant and effective manner.
The plot is straightforward enough. A small village is plagued by bandits, led by the vicious yet charismatic Calvera (Wallach who went on to star in The Good, The Bad and the Ugly); in desperation the villagers set out to buy guns to defend themselves and instead stumble upon Chris and Vin (Brynner and McQueen respectively) who take on their case, despite the lack of money. Between the two of them they convince other acquaintances, either through pressing their honour or with the lure of some secret wealth, to join them.
Upon arrival in the village, they are not given quite the heroes' reception they hoped for. After a series of skirmishes with Calvera's men they are ambushed and forced out of the village. But, with nothing more than honour at stake, the seven return to rescue the village in a final, last-ditch attempt.
The performances are sensational. Each of the seven are well-drawn enough that even with brief screen appearances a sense of character emerges that engages instantly. Particularly likeable are O'Reilly (Bronson) and Britt (Coburn), both taciturn characters clearly admired for their abilities. O'Reilly's first scene is machismo incarnate, while Britt's cool reserve perfectly matches his counterpart from Seven Samurai, and similarly masks a deadly killing potential. Chico (Horst Buchholz), the young, impetuous seventh, also shines. He's headstrong and moody, but pulls it off and gives us just enough of a chance to see the fear behind his posturing that he's an eminently likeable, if childish, hero.
Couple that with a lively score, a great sense of dramatic pacing (no lengthy meaningful pauses here) and enough plot elements to keep things sharp, and it's easy to see why The Magnificent Seven holds a position of such gravitas in the cannon not only of westerns, but of remakes. Justly so. It's the sort of film that makes one want to look up every other Bronson or Coburn film, just to marvel at their abilities.
~~~
1960
Val Brynner, Steve McQueen, Eli Wallach, Charles Bronson, Robert Vaughn, Brad Dexter, James Coburn and introducing Horst Buchholz
dir. John Sturges
The plot is straightforward enough. A small village is plagued by bandits, led by the vicious yet charismatic Calvera (Wallach who went on to star in The Good, The Bad and the Ugly); in desperation the villagers set out to buy guns to defend themselves and instead stumble upon Chris and Vin (Brynner and McQueen respectively) who take on their case, despite the lack of money. Between the two of them they convince other acquaintances, either through pressing their honour or with the lure of some secret wealth, to join them.
Upon arrival in the village, they are not given quite the heroes' reception they hoped for. After a series of skirmishes with Calvera's men they are ambushed and forced out of the village. But, with nothing more than honour at stake, the seven return to rescue the village in a final, last-ditch attempt.
The performances are sensational. Each of the seven are well-drawn enough that even with brief screen appearances a sense of character emerges that engages instantly. Particularly likeable are O'Reilly (Bronson) and Britt (Coburn), both taciturn characters clearly admired for their abilities. O'Reilly's first scene is machismo incarnate, while Britt's cool reserve perfectly matches his counterpart from Seven Samurai, and similarly masks a deadly killing potential. Chico (Horst Buchholz), the young, impetuous seventh, also shines. He's headstrong and moody, but pulls it off and gives us just enough of a chance to see the fear behind his posturing that he's an eminently likeable, if childish, hero.
Couple that with a lively score, a great sense of dramatic pacing (no lengthy meaningful pauses here) and enough plot elements to keep things sharp, and it's easy to see why The Magnificent Seven holds a position of such gravitas in the cannon not only of westerns, but of remakes. Justly so. It's the sort of film that makes one want to look up every other Bronson or Coburn film, just to marvel at their abilities.
~~~
1960
Val Brynner, Steve McQueen, Eli Wallach, Charles Bronson, Robert Vaughn, Brad Dexter, James Coburn and introducing Horst Buchholz
dir. John Sturges
National Lampoon's Animal House
I was struck with a sense of awareness finally dawning as I tuned in and watched Animal House. I knew the hype about National Lampoon, about their films and how they were cult comedy to be admired; I just hadn't really watched any of their stuff. But thinking I knew a bit about comedy and such (just a bit, not much) I thought it was about time I rolled back the clock and checked it out. I was eminently pleased I did.
Animal House tells the story of two college freshmen picking their frat house. Rather than wind up at one of the exclusive, preppy fraternities they wind up in the Animal House, filled with beer-swilling, party-loving miscreants who believe that the pursuit of happiness should outweigh all else. Well, that or just that they don't care about much at all. Threatened with closure, the boys set out to wreak as much havoc as possible. They lose girlfriends and respect along the way; they lose all sense of what they should be achieving at college. And yet they find each other and a common purpose binds them.
It seems so obvious how much National Lampoon obviously influenced so many comedies of the 90s and 00s; many come to mind that must be in their debt. But there's a subtlety to some of Animal House's humour, some lines that slip by nearly unnoticed, that I savoured above all else. The slapstick element is clearly present, but it's underpinned by some cleverer antics, some delicious twists of expectation that keep the movie a delight from beginning to end. It is anything but predictable.
So, on to the next few I suppose.
~~~
1978
John Belushi, Tom Hulce, Stephen Furst
dir. John Landis
Animal House tells the story of two college freshmen picking their frat house. Rather than wind up at one of the exclusive, preppy fraternities they wind up in the Animal House, filled with beer-swilling, party-loving miscreants who believe that the pursuit of happiness should outweigh all else. Well, that or just that they don't care about much at all. Threatened with closure, the boys set out to wreak as much havoc as possible. They lose girlfriends and respect along the way; they lose all sense of what they should be achieving at college. And yet they find each other and a common purpose binds them.
It seems so obvious how much National Lampoon obviously influenced so many comedies of the 90s and 00s; many come to mind that must be in their debt. But there's a subtlety to some of Animal House's humour, some lines that slip by nearly unnoticed, that I savoured above all else. The slapstick element is clearly present, but it's underpinned by some cleverer antics, some delicious twists of expectation that keep the movie a delight from beginning to end. It is anything but predictable.
So, on to the next few I suppose.
~~~
1978
John Belushi, Tom Hulce, Stephen Furst
dir. John Landis
Rambo
Sylvester Stallone wrote the first Rambo: First Blood screenplay; much like he would do when wrote Rocky, it was another moment when Sly took his career into his own hands and created a character for himself to shine. Shine being the operative word. Then in the late Noughties he decided to reinvent both Rocky and John Rambo by revisiting the franchises. He seems to have misunderstood his own creation with the latest Rambo film entirely.
Rambo appears to be an almost complete parody of itself. John Rambo now lives outside of Burma, catching snakes for a living and boating around in his skiff. He is extremely gruff and about double the size he was in the first film some twenty years ago. He is almost entirely characterless. Compared to the drifter of First Blood, trying his utmost to avoid difficulties and clearly scarred after trauma in conflict in Vietnam, this new Rambo is an empty husk without enough interest for an audience even for the brief hour and a bit the film runs for.
Then there's the violence. Rambo is mercilessly violent, but so are the military Burmese as they slaughter Christians in villages. From the news-broadcast style opening to the close of shooting the film is pockmarked by over-the-top violence that is neither necessary nor really offers anything to the film. It's horrific, but also seemingly didactic, as if to suggest that violence is a way of life that can be opted for. Rambo claims killing is in his blood. But there's no alternative really offered by the film, no chance for any kind of redemption.
Perhaps that's the strength of the picture: Stallone has taken his violent creation and let the monster run rampant in a balls-to-the-walls high-voltage explosion fest. Maybe. Or maybe Stallone was dizzied by how much it is possible to simulate with modern CGI techniques and let the excitement of a super-shoot take over actually writing a script or plot with any kind of credibility at all.
~~~
2008
Sylvester Stallone
Written and dir. Sylvester Stallone
Rambo appears to be an almost complete parody of itself. John Rambo now lives outside of Burma, catching snakes for a living and boating around in his skiff. He is extremely gruff and about double the size he was in the first film some twenty years ago. He is almost entirely characterless. Compared to the drifter of First Blood, trying his utmost to avoid difficulties and clearly scarred after trauma in conflict in Vietnam, this new Rambo is an empty husk without enough interest for an audience even for the brief hour and a bit the film runs for.
Then there's the violence. Rambo is mercilessly violent, but so are the military Burmese as they slaughter Christians in villages. From the news-broadcast style opening to the close of shooting the film is pockmarked by over-the-top violence that is neither necessary nor really offers anything to the film. It's horrific, but also seemingly didactic, as if to suggest that violence is a way of life that can be opted for. Rambo claims killing is in his blood. But there's no alternative really offered by the film, no chance for any kind of redemption.
Perhaps that's the strength of the picture: Stallone has taken his violent creation and let the monster run rampant in a balls-to-the-walls high-voltage explosion fest. Maybe. Or maybe Stallone was dizzied by how much it is possible to simulate with modern CGI techniques and let the excitement of a super-shoot take over actually writing a script or plot with any kind of credibility at all.
~~~
2008
Sylvester Stallone
Written and dir. Sylvester Stallone
Thursday 11 March 2010
Franklyn
Can one trade in substance for style? Franklyn certainly makes a fair enough bid to achieve it. Unfortunately, despite moments of excellence, it doesn't quite make it. At least not to my satisfaction.
McMorrow's Franklyn, his only outing after Thespian X, a sci-fi short, is not short of interesting ideas. Jonathan Priest (Phillippe) lives in a world in which while everyone has religion, he does not. He is hunted mercilessly by religious fanatics as he himself tries to piece together something of a murder mystery. Emilia (Green) is a troubled artist who films herself attempting suicide as her latest art project, to her mother's disgust. Milo (Riley) has been dumped, yet again, and goes on the trail of a childhood friend to try to work out what left him jilted once more. The latter two inhabit what seems to be real-world London. Then there's Esser (Bernard Hill - sorry, I couldn't find a good Franklyn image) who's looking for his missing son.
Individually the storylines are interesting enough, and McMorrow's ideas are all there. However, as bedfellows, they seem uncomfortable. The denouement as worlds collide didn't quite work in my mind, and while it was entertaining enough to try to piece together how characters overlapped between worlds, how much we were being guided to see things through certain viewpoints, it failed to live up to the emotional weight that the script tried to demand. Sadly that was the greatest weakness here: a script that verged on melodrama left the actors delivering fairly empty performances and not quite managing to lift the drama beyond the mediocre. But that remained a shame to me, a disappointment that could have been avoided with a closer edit of the material. Some of Priest's film noir style observations where in themselves amusing and a fitting homage to that genre, but why did McMorrow then choose to situate his hero in this futuristic dystopia rather than in black and white New York or Chicago? It is almost as though there are too many elements at play jarring with each other.
The dystopia is pretty enough, but maddeningly so, overladen with an intensity of detail that offers little to the plot or characters. On the one hand, reason is given as to what we are really seeing (and I'm avoiding spoilers here). But on the other, it does not inform the story to any level that is meaningful. Again, a judicious edit or rethink might have helped here. So it was a shame to watch as competent enough actors struggled through a tepid script and failed to give wings to potentially emotionally moving drama that really never got off its feet.
Am I glad I watched it? Not really. I can't go using the name Franklin much now. Boo.
~~~
2008
Ryan Phillippe, Eva Green, Sam Riley
Written and directed by Gerald McMorrow
Tyrant: Storm of Arrows
I have yet to write a review of Christian Cameron's first ancient Hellenic adventure story, Tyrant. I must say, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Cameron merges an obvious obsession with Alexandros and the ancient world of the 4th Century BC with confident storytelling and some rather epic battle sequences. But sadly, the second novel in the series falls woefully short of the mark.
Tyrant: Storm of Arrows sees our hero, Kineas, an Athenian gentleman-mercenary, where we left him in the the Chersonese. He has defended Olbia against the Macedonian army led by Phocion and fallen for the Sakje warrior princess Srayanka. He has lost comrades too, heroes from the first book. But Niceas, his trusty squire, and the Spartan Philokles remain erstwhile companions. But now trouble is brewing in the East, and the Sakje vote to send troops to assist the Sauromatae who came to their aid against the Macedonians; this time, the threat is Alexandros as he cuts an unstoppable path through the East towards Baktria.
Kineas starts to dream once more. His dreams are prophetic and he is considered a shaman by some of the Sakje. He is offered a choice: to rule Olbia as a just tyrant (if such a thing is possible, as Kineas himself doubts), or death in the East, fighting side-by-side with his love, Srayanka. He chooses the latter.
But it all goes wrong both in tone and detail. The dream sequences are barely mysterious, barely beyond step-by-step description of 'this happened, then this, then this' that are tedious enough. Alongside this, the descriptions of preparation, of travel, of conversation, also remain mundane. A secondary love interest is introduced with all the tact of a two phalanxes clashing shields; Kineas' doubts are boring, particularly given we already know the choice he has made and indeed the outcome it will offer.
It's not that Storm of Arrows claims to be a thriller and fails. It makes no such claim. But where the first book used the historical detail as a background, a further lashing of authenticity, to the action, this one is far too bogged down in it. The historical detail becomes the rambling of a pedant rather than a hook into a realistic and engaging world reimagined. It's dry and peacocked, certainly to my taste. A shame, as there are three more books due in the series.
~~~
2009
Christian Cameron
Orion Books
Tyrant: Storm of Arrows sees our hero, Kineas, an Athenian gentleman-mercenary, where we left him in the the Chersonese. He has defended Olbia against the Macedonian army led by Phocion and fallen for the Sakje warrior princess Srayanka. He has lost comrades too, heroes from the first book. But Niceas, his trusty squire, and the Spartan Philokles remain erstwhile companions. But now trouble is brewing in the East, and the Sakje vote to send troops to assist the Sauromatae who came to their aid against the Macedonians; this time, the threat is Alexandros as he cuts an unstoppable path through the East towards Baktria.
Kineas starts to dream once more. His dreams are prophetic and he is considered a shaman by some of the Sakje. He is offered a choice: to rule Olbia as a just tyrant (if such a thing is possible, as Kineas himself doubts), or death in the East, fighting side-by-side with his love, Srayanka. He chooses the latter.
But it all goes wrong both in tone and detail. The dream sequences are barely mysterious, barely beyond step-by-step description of 'this happened, then this, then this' that are tedious enough. Alongside this, the descriptions of preparation, of travel, of conversation, also remain mundane. A secondary love interest is introduced with all the tact of a two phalanxes clashing shields; Kineas' doubts are boring, particularly given we already know the choice he has made and indeed the outcome it will offer.
It's not that Storm of Arrows claims to be a thriller and fails. It makes no such claim. But where the first book used the historical detail as a background, a further lashing of authenticity, to the action, this one is far too bogged down in it. The historical detail becomes the rambling of a pedant rather than a hook into a realistic and engaging world reimagined. It's dry and peacocked, certainly to my taste. A shame, as there are three more books due in the series.
~~~
2009
Christian Cameron
Orion Books
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