female protagonist
I’m not now, nor have I ever been, a teenage girl. I’m not even a teenager anymore, and chances are if you’re in the UK and tried to see The Diary of a Teenage Girl, you won’t be either. Thanks, BBFC.
The marketing team for Paul Feig’s most recent film, Spy, should really reconsider their occupation: this was one of my first thoughts as the credits for the film rolled and I began to head for the exit. The trailers and posters for the film made it seem like little more than Paulina Blart:
Immortality is a myth. This is a fact not only based on a reality standpoint, but also literarily. Ask anybody the first thing which crosses their minds when discussing the subject, and most likely mythical beings such as wizards, witches, vampires or superheroes would top the list.
Testament Of Youth is based on Vera Brittain’s memoir of the same name. Her book pays homage to her own losses while growing up during World War I, but also the great loss felt by her generation. Brittain’s book is perhaps unique in that in the UK we are often told about the loss of life during the war.
Like many people, I was a great fan of Bridesmaids and The Heat, so it was likely that the newest film to pair Paul Feig and Melissa McCarthy would be right up my alley. Likely, but even I had my doubts over Spy. A spy comedy?
Anyone who is familiar with George Miller’s Mad Max series must have been eagerly anticipating his latest as much as I have. It has now been 30 years since we last saw Max in his post-apocalyptic desert world. But it is almost as if no time has passed.
Every now and again, a movie adaptation of a novel is made by the perfect directorial fit for the source material, that helps it stay true to the original text and create a new visionary approach that helps it stand on its own two feet as a distinctive work of art. Danish director Thomas Vinterberg has had an eclectic career, yet is mainly renowned for his two emotionally fraught dramas about the devastating effects of child abuse, his 1998 debut Festen (The Celebration) and his previous feature, 2012’s magnificent The Hunt. These movies are excellent in how they don’t spare the viewer from the histrionic emotions that engulf the characters and completely ruin their lives – The Hunt, starring the always-fantastic Mads Mikkelsen as a primary school teacher wrongly accused of abusing a pupil, could easily draw comparisons with Thomas Hardy.
The Duke of Burgundy is that rare thing that almost every movie promises, yet fails to deliver: it is something that you’ve never seen before. It manages to say something universal about the politics and gender roles of relationships using the guise of lesbian sadomasochism, a subject I assume will be entirely alien to most viewers.
Without trying to simplify the cinematic output of an entire nation, it could be argued that there are only two types of British independent films. There’s the prestige fare, that depicts the lives of the upper classes and the monarchy (notable recent examples are The King’s Speech and The Theory of Everything), that are almost always boring, a smash-hit at the international box office, and a major awards contender. The other example is the polar opposite – dark, gritty dramas about the working classes that are never boring, but also never in contention for box office or awards success.
About 20 minutes into A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night, the local drug dealer, Saeed (Dominic Rains), takes a girl (Shelia Vand) back to his flat. His place is pretty pimped out. Think a toned-down version of Alien’s crib in Spring Breakers – the mounted animal heads, the fur carpets and nice furniture, the suitcase filled with drug money and coke lined up on the glass table next to it.
We all know that mainstream Hollywood loves making movies about show business. Heck, there was an article on this very website recently that outlined the Academy’s obsession with rewarding movies that either celebrate or send-up the showbiz lifestyle. Clouds of Sils Maria is a very different take on that same subject.
I had read Veronica Roth’s Divergent before the adaptation sauntered onto cinema screens, heralded as the next The Hunger Games, and what I discovered was that I preferred the film to the book. There was more action on show, and I felt that the film fixed many of the things I found problematic with the book’s narrative. So when I discovered that the book of Insurgent didn’t impress, I decided to bypass it and wait for the film.
Suite Française is an adaptation of Irène Némirovsky’s novel of the same name. Prior to seeing the film I had no knowledge of its provenance, and will withhold this particular information for now lest it misinform how you read the rest of this review. As always, I will attempt to remain objective.
The Tale of the Princess Kaguya tells the folklore of a Japanese princess born from a bamboo stalk in the heavens and raised as the child of an elderly agrarian couple. She lives and grows up rapidly right before our eyes, just like the bamboo from which she was bred. She was meant to live a more “normal” life, though, and is soon thrust into a lifestyle that contradicts her humble upbringings.
It’s often stated that January and February are the two worst cinematic months of the year, as all of the major new releases are more often than not the terrible movies major studios have just “dumped” there. Yet it could easily be argued that the months leading up to the end of the year (“awards season” or “prestige season”, if you prefer to forget that Hollywood backslapping ceremonies exist) are equally bad. They do usually provide the year’s best movies, yet they also provide the kinds of movies that have been made cynically to get awards.
