Review: John Wick

A film review for On the Box.

When three Russian thugs kill John Wick’s dog, his world falls apart. As a result, he’s sucked back into his violent past, with a reimagined New York providing the perfect arena for this well-handled revenge thriller.

Teaming up with his former stunt double on The Matrix, Keanu Reeves reminds us of the presence he can bring to a big action movie following the disappointment of films such as 47 Ronin. He is helped, no doubt, by the sheer control and understanding of the genre possessed by Chad Stahelski and David Leitch. Each scenario, no matter how deadly, is handled with a dexterity that is compelling to watch. Despite taking out up to thirty Russian henchmen at a time, John Wick’s soirees into destruction remain literate as well as enticing. Rather than relying on fast cutting, shaky cameras and visual chaos, each set piece is shot with a patience that showcases Reeves’ physical stunts rather than virtual effects or tricks of the camera. It’s something that any action aficionado will relish from beginning to end.

The onslaught begins when Alife Allen (Game of Thrones), quite enjoyable here as Mikael Nyqvist’s thuggish brat, murders John Wick’s dog and nabs his Mustang. The set up might be a bit much, but it doesn’t feel forced given the film’s comic book aesthetic. Instead, this world of gangsters, contract killers and specified ‘no-kill’ zones is so well realised that you can’t resist giving yourself up to it. In fact, given the entire film is populated singularly by these shady figures, it would be difficult not to.

From the skyline to the subtitles, the entire film is stylized. Neon-lit corridors and rain-drenched courtyards provide the natural habitat for Keanu Reeves’ boogeyman of the hitman community. Actually, John Wick’s reputation for lethal efficiency is so well known that the mob boss takes pains to assure us that Wick isn’t the boogeyman, “he’s the guy you send to kill the fucking boogeyman.” In an attempt to prevent the master of murder himself from opening the floodgates on his son, Nyqvist uses his influence to send a slew of assassins after Wick. It is here that the supporting cast take the floor, with Willem Dafoe and Ian McShane assuming recognisable roles and adding to the sense that, in this town, old friends and old enemies aren’t necessarily separate things.

Keanu Reeves is fantastic in the lead role, bringing his calming presence to the screen before disrupting it with brutal moments of violence. His movements are clinical, but the film’s script is playful enough as to not get bogged down by overwrought sincerity. With reports that John Wick 2 is already in early development, it might not be long until to see what he can possibly do next.

Theatre Review: Clarence Darrow

Theatre review for The Upcoming

The lights go up, the stage is empty. A series of grunts and crashes introduce Clarence Darrow, the great American lawyer and Civil Rights defender lying with his legs in the air, beneath his desk. A couple of anxious minutes go by, with Kevin Spacey pottering around the stage (dressed up like the office of Atticus Finch) before collapsing into his chair. More time transpires while Spacey looks around the room, as if greeting each person in the packed out Old Vic auditorium. A couple of nervous giggles leak out and just like that, the audience are in the palm of his hand, remaining there until the very end.

The poignancy of the evening is palpable, this being Spacey’s final performance as creative director of the Old Vic since he took over twelve years ago. Fitting then, perhaps, that he takes centre stage in this one-man play charting the life and work of an eloquent country lawyer who “didn’t bribe jurors, he frightened them to death.” The intimacy created by staging the play in the round certainly reproduces a bit of that terror, Spacey’s full-bodied performance barely contained by the wooden stage. Instead, the audience become implicit in Darrow’s recreation of famous trials, as well as intimate scenes involving his first wife.

Impassioned and at times vitriolic, Darrow is presented as a staunch defender of left-leaning politics in a recognisably ignorant society. Racial harmony, the eight-hour day and the end of the death penalty are all argued for over the course of the play, and it’s hard to not leave the theatre considering these morals against our own society. Darrow is shown to be tired of the world that he’s been fighting (or teaching) for so long. Ultimately, there’s an understandable amount of pride in Darrow that can’t be criticised.  Of all the 102 men he defended, Spacey tells us, not a one was hanged.

The script is one that was first staged 40 years ago, with Henry Fonda in the role. Far from dusty, however, the words are brought to life by Spacey’s exhilarated movement and delivery; jokes land on cue, moments of anguish are perfectly realised. After giving everything he has for almost 2 hours, the play comes to its end. The time has flown by. The next time Spacey returns to the London stage it will be a guest, but one we’ll be more than happy to have.

Clarence Darrow is on at The Old Vic until 15^th June 2015, for further information visit here.

Review: Cymbeline

A review for The Upcoming

Michael Almereyda opts for style over substance in his anachronistic retelling of this unpopular Shakespeare play. The experience, however, is one undoubtedly more favourable to his previously austere literary adaptation, Hamlet (2000).

A pulsing synth soundtrack and slow-motion close-ups are served up alongside Cymbeline’s opening exposition statements. The influence of Nicholas Winding Refn (as well as Baz Luhrmann) can be detected immediately, though a baffling plot, undeveloped ideas and a farce of a finale find Almereyda’s efforts coming up short.

Opting to preserve Shakespeare’s dialogue in this modern, American setting provides one of the film’s rare pleasures. Though cut down extensively, the words “I prey you, spare me” uttered by Imogen (Dakota Johnson) as she stomps up stairs to her bedroom work predictably well. There, however, any genuine moments of synthesis between Shakespeare’s play and this updated setting end.

Cymbaline, played by Ed Harris in a leather jacket, finds himself king of the Briton Motorcycle Gang. His adversary is the chief of Roman police (Vondie Curtis-Hall), their problem with one another rooted in an on-going drug war. If all these role transitions hint at some sort of inspired reading of modern America, then know that such intentions are not realised on screen. Instead, any changes to the story seem cosmetic, which is probably the best way to describe the film itself.

The convoluted plot is kicked into motion when the villainous Iachimo (Ethan Hawke) proposes a wager with Penn Badgley’s Posthumus (Gossip Girl) stating he can tempt his wife into a spot of adultery. Many have raised the issue that, in this updated 21^st Century setting, such behaviour seems bizarre if not outright insane. But Almereyda continues along Shakespeare’s path of manipulation, deceit and iPads (which are used frequently in this adaptation, with a certain incriminating selfie proving damning for poor Imogen).

Once again, there’s a sense that Almereyda is hinting at something relevant: the use of technology in our private lives, the existence of revenge porn in our society. Yet ultimately, his rendition is sleek but shallow.

And sleek it is, with some nicely lit scenes from long-time David Gordon Green collaborator Tim Orr employed as Cymbaline’s DP. The palette is a burned-out auburn colour, with jet-black biker jackets and striking landscapes serving up a feast for the eye. Frankly, it’s a shame the brain doesn’t receive as much nourishment.

Review: Exit

A review for The Upcoming 

Chen Shiang-chyi’s Ling suffers from a similar condition to David Zellner’s protagonist in the recent American-Japanese film Kumiko, the Treasure Hunter. Yet, where the latter escapes from her mundane life into a magical-realist world of stashed booty and sympathetic policemen, Ling is left isolated and alone, with little to cling to in terms of fanciful escapism.

Exit opens in an impoverished, faded part of urbanised Taiwan. Unpopulated and unstimulating, the film’s landscape goes a long way to reflecting Ling’s inner psyche. After being laid off, her problems really begin to mount, with a combination of nascent menopausal symptoms and existential angst enveloping her as she searches desperately for any sense of meaning.

Initially, it looks as though some sort of release might come from the exaggerated body movements of tango dancing. Though after her attempts to dress up, don beauty masks and join a friend’s tango class leave her deflated, it is clear no hope lies in such an endeavour.

As Ling continues to push on through her monotonous experience – caring for her bed-ridden mother, making numerous unanswered calls to her daughter and husband – Chen Shiang-chyi’s performance moves from strength to strength.  Unapologetically naturalistic, Hsiang’s direction shuns melodrama in favour of raw, understated moments. The most openly emotion scene of all comes from Ling’s anguish at not being able to break out of her broken front door. The more painful sadness lies in the fact she can’t break out of her hermetic existence. The routine continues; the loneliness sets in. In Chen Shiang-chyi’s capable hands, it becomes a feeling of futility to which we can all relate.

The one activity that interests Ling is caring for the patient across from her mother-in-law’s bed. Eyes bandaged, groaning and abandoned, this man gives the otherwise purposeless Ling a chance to seize her identity. The simple act of massaging a stranger’s torso becomes its own sort of therapy, a reclamation of her middle-aged femininity.

For those with a penchant for slow burners, subtle moments of beauty and brutal honesty, look no further than Exit. It’s in those prolonged pockets of silence that the film really takes hold, the faint rhythm of tango music echoing somewhere in the background.

Review: Appropriate Behaviour

Film review for OnTheBox

In this endearing story of break-up anguish, Desiree Akhavan channels the sharp whimsy ofAnnie Hall with the raw power of Blue is the Warmest Colour. The themes here are no less weighty than in the latter film, but the approach is far lighter.

The precedent for Appropriate Behaviour is set as Shirin (Akhavan) storms from her girlfriend’s house and begins marching down Brooklyn’s streets, strap-on in hand. From there, she is left observing the absurdity that life becomes when a long-term partner is suddenly gone. Moments from the couple’s past are woven into the film, providing relief from Shirin’s isolated torment and cementing their relationship firmly in the past. Going forward, the focus remains on two principle acts: ‘moving on’ and ‘coming out’.

The first requires the ability to forge human connection, to understand that life continues without the person on whom you’ve been dependent for so long. This desire finds Shirin stumbling into a host of awkward situations, the most memorable being a threesome involving two martini-sipping New Yorkers. The scene itself is far more revealing than it is sexy, with Akhavan showing her fierce ability as an actor, director and writer all at once.

‘Coming out’ comes with its own set of obstacles. Not only does Shirin face coming out to her Iranian parents, she must also repeatedly defend her bisexual position with her gay friends. In this dynamic, Akhavan deliberates on acceptance and sexuality within the comedy genre. What’s more impressive, she succeeds in considering each issue without stifling the laughs, which remain constant throughout.

Those familiar with Girls may recognise Akhavan from a recurring cameo role in the show, and the humour here is not dissimilar to Lena Dunham’s own brand of brash, semi-autobiographical comedy. What Akhavan brings to this shtick is an uncompromising freshness that defies her two obvious identities: her Iranian-American, and her twentysomething bisexual self. We could probably throw her hip New York socialite identity into the mix while we’re at it.

The film’s ability to evade all these clichés is probably down to its superbly written script, for which Akhavan is also responsible. Entertaining, edgy and idiosyncratic, the writing delivers lines that catch you off-guard, keeping your attention as the narrative skips around (at times a little turbulently).

Akhavan’s brilliantly expressive facial gestures are also responsible for holding the eye, and it’s one you can certainly expect to see more of in the future.

Review: x+y

A review for On the Box

If Whiplash is a war film set in a music hall, then x+y resembles combat of an altogether academic sort. Both films focus on the skill, drive and determination involved in realising one’s potential; as well as the battles, wherever they may take place, that must be fought to do so.

Another point of similarity lies in the production of the two films. Both have been directed by first-time feature filmmakers, and both are born out of each director’s previous work: Whiplash from Damien Chazelle’s short, x+y from Morgan Matthews’ stimulating BBC documentary, Beautiful Young Minds.

The latter follows a group of gifted teenagers as they aim to stake their place in the International Mathematical Olympiad (IMO). It is from this premise that x+y takes shape, following Asa Butterfield’s Nathan (inspired by his real-life counterpart, Daniel Lightwing) as he deals with autism and strives to make sense of the world around him.

In the order and reason of advanced mathematics, Nathan finds a method of approaching reality that makes sense to him. As his world is shaken by a blossoming relationship with Zhang Mei (Jo Yang), a member of the Chinese IMO team, it is revealing that it is to formulas and equations that Nathan turns. Predictably, however, mathematics doesn’t get him very far; a revelation that dawns upon Nathan slowly, leaving him both dissatisfied and frustrated.

Matthews succeeds in building upon the story he first unravelled in his documentary, taking creative license to move his camera into the private lives of these young geniuses. Rather than the IMO itself, it is the people that surround Nathan, and his attempts to connect with them, that form the most compelling aspect of the film.

Beginning the story completely closed-off from the outside world, Nathan is confronted by various characters that lead him to question his withdrawn stance. Enter the unconventional and anarchic Mr. Humphreys (Rafe Spall), an ex-IMO contender whose biting wit and personal flaws make him the perfect match for young Nathan. Unlike J.K. Simmons’ tyrannical mentor in Whiplash, Spall shares in Nathan’s confusion and uncertainty. The focus of their relationship isn’t on passing tests and asserting academic dominance. Instead, it’s about fostering understanding, cracking mathematic puzzles and developing their emotional identities.

There’s also a great deal to love about James Graham’s debut script. Taking Beautiful Young Minds as his starting point (and lifting surprising amounts of its stellar dialogue from the documentary), Graham allows each character’s pain to be realised. Nathan’s mum (Sally Hawkins) is shown to be worn out and craving company having been shut off by Nathan for too long. Spall’s demons come out too, and you sense that Nathan’s emotional progress is cathartic for all involved. Indeed, it certainly feels cathartic to watch.