Pirates Of The Caribbean 5: Dead Men Tell No Tales (US) / Salazar's Revenge (UK)

The recent critical reception of the box-office swashbuckling Pirates franchise has, in the majority, gone somewhat from a miscreant’s trove of riches, to being run aground by rags.

After the powerhouse back-lot grandiosity and sharp script of director Gore Verbinski’s and writers Ted Elliott & Terry Rossio’s original trilogy (2003-2007), Rob Marshall’s (Chicago, Into The Woods, the upcoming Mary Poppins Returns), On Stranger Tides in 2011, felt enjoyable, albeit expositionally heavy, and the absence of the vital coupling of Orlando Bloom and Keria Knightley was especially keenly felt. I wonder…

  Here, with its absolutely terrific fifth installment blasting surprises out of multiple canons, it’s put absolutely back on top of the parchment roster of one of the very best blockbuster-franchises in mainstream, twenty-first century cinema.

  It simultainiously feels absolutely inimitably set within the Pirates atmosphere of studio-lead scale, a glorious reprise of both high-spirited golden-age romanticism and humour; and the main themes of Hans Zimmer’s unmistakably rousing orchestral score, the very slickest of visual effects, and the threatening, plotting chimera of danger around every doomy, crescendoed turn.

  At the same time it feels utterly new, thanks to the injection of brilliant new talent inhabiting brand new characters. Brenton Thwaites is just as fresh-faced and resourceful as both Bloom and Knightley were, starring as Henry Turner, son to their characters; Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann. Kaya Scodelario is also equally impessive as astrologer Karina, allowing for a particularly inventive sub-plot involving blood-moons and star trajectories.

 Of course, tottering fantastically upfront and centre, is Johnny Depp’s infamous Captain Jack Sparrow, whose facial expressions, agitprop physicality and slurred delivery, are as joyous as ever. It’s also a series thriving on the surprise of its villainy and set-pieces, possibly never more so than here, as Javier Bardem (Skyfall) continues his litany of gleeful malevenlence as Salazar, who in his ghostly, genuinely unnerving, deliciously unpredictable wake (similarly to Ralph Fiennes’s Voldermort), leaves lots of options for both peerless cinematography, and 3D to complement each other with aplomb. Sea-birds quark and swoop into camera, sharks circle and jump in speed-ramped editing, armies of undead charge on-mass, and waterfall tombs nearly leave you drenched!

  To reveal more of the many twists would spoil. Stay after the credits!

  Rating: * * * *

Miss Sloane

Miss Sloane, Cert: 15, 132 mins approx, Starring: Jessica Chastain, Mark Strong, John Lithgow. Entertainment One.

The ever-unpredictable subject of American politics makes for a fascinating, twisty thriller set in the glossy arena of senate hearings, campaigns, constitutional questioning, boardrooms and backstabbing. The eclectic versatility of director John Madden has brought us the literary romanticism of Shakespeare In Love, the horror of the holocaust in The Debt - (also starring Chastain) and the gentle warmth as well as lucrative success of two stays, at The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.

  This, is another change of tactic, with a fantastic screenplay of corporate, rhymical dialogue that hits the polished, governmental ground running, like Damages, or the rat-a-tat vernacular Aaron Sorkin might have written - his stylistic hallmark of The West Wing, and The Newsroom, (which Allison Pill also starred in, playing a similar role both there and here, a young protage to whom there’s more than meets the eye). It’s an examination of how the setting of broadcasting operates. That’s also evident here, with frequent and forensic motifs of live television, media outlets, and the distortion of truth through sensationalism and the changing balances of power. The complex legal rhetoric won’t suit everyone, but enriched the darkly tangled web of corruption, deceit, plotting and secrecy for me.

  These are all framed by the hot-button issue of legislative gun control. Given the cataclysmic events of the current U.S. climate politically - (a certain polariser was elected two days after its U.S. premiere) - it may have been decidedly different in its rather neutral approach. Although, however much these comparisons are made with the emphasis on current events and topicality, these are often either exaggerated (never here) or coincidental (more likely) in cinema, depending on timing and public opinion, - ironically - also central themes.

  Jessica Chastain’s never shy of tackling either serious subjects, or true-life material (Zero Dark Thirty, The Help). Her deservedly golden-globe nominated performance, is a powerhouse of intensity, an unreadable exercise in restraint, as the titular lobbyist, Madeline Sloane, with the laser-focus of her eyes or click of her stilettos. She has an amazing ensemble cast around her, including John Lithgow, Jake Lacy, Mark Strong, Sam Waterston and Christine Baranski. Max Richter’s score, like the film’s structure, flips between cat-and-mouse scheming and tense consequence. Gripping. 

Rating: * * * *

Guardians Of The Galaxy: Vol. 2

Guardians Of The Galaxy Vol: 2, 12A, 136 mins, Marvel Studios.

When Guardians Of The Galaxy burst irreverently onto every cinema screen on our planet in the summer of 2014, its pop-art aesthetic and zany cultural self-referentiality - made a previously widely obscure entry into Marvel’s leviathan of a canon - a dizzying, left-field delight.

 Now, the rag-tag bunch of misfits are back, in all their neon-lit, wise-cracking though not quite as subversive blockbusting glory.

Director James Gunn (the writer of the fantastic big-screen adaptations of Scooby-Doo (criminally underrated, personal favourites of mine), returns to amp up the florescent, psychedelic phantasmagoria.  

 Peter Quill aka Star-Lord (Chris Pratt) teams up again with the lime green-skinned, short-tempered warrior Gamora (Zoe Saldana), the gigantic, teal muscle-bound convict Drax (Dave Bautista), Baby ‘I am’ Groot (voiced once again, although unrecognisably), by Vin Diesel. Best of all though, is the deliberately facetious raccoon (don’t call him that - ‘triangular-faced monkey’ or ‘trash-panda’ are apparently better! Yes, Bradley Cooper, (also entirely unrecognisably, channeling Bruce Willis again), lends his grouchily self-deprecating, sarcastic barbs to Rocket, the miniature mercenary.

 Rocket may have all the best jokes (his and Drax’s sarcasm, as well as total lack of irony, make for some uproariously crowd-pleasing moments), but, as was the case last time, it’s the terrific Pratt who steals the exuberant show. His Star-Lord is a magnificent creation - one of the best, and identifiably grounded superhero figures of recent years. Wonderfully knowing and retro, his character personifies the entirely unique tone of the series; energetic, smart (subtle when needed) and surprisingly heartfelt. This time, Peter discovers more about the ambiguity of his quasi-heritage, leading him to the aptly-named Ego - (another resurgence for Kurt Russell)…

 As with all franchise-films, to say any more would mean spoilers, but what ensues is an excellently entertaining romp with plenty of exciting set-pieces, hugely ambitious visual-effects, and a galaxy of tunes and cameos. The dialogue is filled with 80’s pastiche (Pac-Man, Cheers, and Hasselhoff are all unapologetically usurped!).

 But it lacks the novelty, surprise, edge and twists of the original. Glenn Close, rumored to be reprising her pivotal role as the marvelous ice-cream-cone haired Nova Prime, is also mysteriously absent. Here’s hoping she’s back for number three!

Rating: * * * *

The Boss Baby Review

The Boss Baby - Certificate PG, 97 mins, Dreamworks Animation.

Moana, Trolls, Zootropolis, Kubo and The Two Strings, The Secret Life Of Pets - 2016 was the crème-da-la-creme year for inventive animation (with the exception of Finding Dory, a middling retread, sucked down into its own current of over-hyped mediocrity). 2017 had an excellent start too, with Sing!, a zany, astutely allegorical take on the saturation of talent/reality television.

  The Boss Baby is another, less overtly political satire of sorts (the much-publicised similarity between the appearance of the titular toddler and a certain extreme political polariser is notable, but most likely coincidental). Many reviews have also rightly made immediate comparisons with the recent Storks, the animated feature from Warner Bros. last autumn. However, whereas that had its cheery cherubs delivered by carrier-pigeon, here it’s via the prolific mode of multiplicity: automated, factory-line infancy through means of corporate manufacture. This is amusingly rendered in an early sequence, where each is customarily equipped with dummy (sorry, pacifier) and a liberal sprinkling of talcum powder, before being categorised into either: ‘Family’ or ‘Business’ - fondly reminiscent of the same studio’s soldier/worker scenario in 1998’s Antz. When a mix-up sends the slick ‘bundle of ploy’ to the apparent normality of the Templeton’s dappled suburbia, his cutesy act fools everyone but his older brother Tim, especially as his most secret is rumbled: he can talk! He’s a ruthless dolly-dictator, with the dulcet tones of Alec Baldwin, in the midst of a career resurgence, again playing a character who revels in moral ambivalence; it’s a gleefully sarcastic performance. Also very strong and funny are Lisa Kudrow (Friends’ Phoebe, also making a comeback of interesting supporting choices - this and Girl On The Train), and this year’s fated Oscars host Jimmy Kimmel, as Tim’s parents, by turns oblivious and flustered. The script is strewn with clever in-jokes of self-referentiality, spoofing everything from Fellowship Of The Ring to Raiders Of The Lost Ark, with an aesthetic which, at its most fantastical is straight out of The Incredibles. It’s a Dreamworks animation - those trademark, expressive, inimitably plastic faces. The film it reminded me the most of theirs, was 2010’s far better superhero-centric Megamind. But, this is light, bright fun, with powerhouse Hans Zimmer’s heartfelt arrangement of Lennon and McCartney’s Blackbird.

Rating: * * *

Power Rangers

Power Rangers, 12A, 124 mins. Approx, Lionsgate.

Blockbusters either based on, or as a result of the synergy of toy merchandising are a prolific, if not always lucrative, cinematic staple. Transformers, G.I. Joe, not to mention Disney characters and Marvel and DC’s innumerable gaggle of superheros. Is it the factory-production of money-spinning cynicism, or simply the desire of filmmakers to re-imagine established franchises in a new way for each generation?

  For this latest entry into the canonical pantheon, Power Rangers, popular consensus seems to favour the former. The vast majority of reviews have been terrible, dismissing it as a shallow, cookie-cutter cash-in. But the reason the notion of these remakes appeals to me so much, is to see how they’re interpreted and refreshed in terms of tone, stylistic choices, ideas and invention - how different are they from previous versions - if possible, even original?

  I thought this was a fun, bright revisionist update of one of my favourite TV series as a nineties child. These reboots always work best when they encapsulate an evocation of childhood. So for reasons of nostalgic posterity, it worked for me - I had a figurine of the Blue Ranger years ago!

 It takes a long time (almost three-quarters of the film) for the characters to become those florescent, publicity-adorned heroes, and actually put the suits on. Up until then, it’s mainly the U.S. high-school teen mixture of camaraderie and angst, (but, this happens to be one of my favourite sub-genres, particularly in nineties comedies). Also, the flip-side of this is that several relevant, contemporary issues for the characters are allowed to be raised liberally, without being treated as too heavy-handed.

The young cast are promising, if a little soapy (Dacre Montgomery as Jason, The Red Ranger, is a doppelganger for a young Zac Efron). There are some great supporting performances - Elizabeth Banks is wonderfully evil as the aptly named megalomaniac space-villain, Rita Repulsa, and a digitally enhanced Bryan Cranston lends his inspirationally dulcet tones. The climactic action and effects are well-staged (with an occasional burst of the original theme-tune), but it does descend into a rather overblown Transformers battle towards the end. Enjoyable, and left open for a sequel…

Rating: * * *

Beauty And The Beast

Beauty And The Beast, Cert: PG, 129 mins, Walt Disney Pictures.

Disney continues its prolific slate of live-action remakes. There was Alice In Wonderland, Cinderella, Maleficent and Oz: The Great And Powerful (my favourite by a yellow-brick mile). It’s a strategy with no sign of slowing down, with Mulan, Peter Pan and The Lion King all in the works, along with The Nutcracker and a Mary Poppins sequel currently being made.

  Its latest re-envisioning, is of Beauty And The Beast, the 1991 classic which made history for being the first animated-feature ever to be nominated for the Best Picture Oscar. An unbelievable twenty-six years later, the decidedly dark tale of unlikely love, cursed spells, red roses and talking household objects, returns to enchant a new generation.

  It’s an exuberant, bells and whistles experience: rich, glossy, dappled to within an inch of its blockbusting, GCI-sprinkled life. So much so, that all the hype generated by trailers and Twitter-spheres, can’t help but leave you feeling delighted, warm, and yet oddly hollow. The problem with being so faithful to a beloved original, is that this adaptation can feel like its set-pieces (and occasionally over-long songs) are highlights, engaged in a box-ticking exercise.

 That said, it is visually absolutely stunning. The sets and costumes (by powerhouse designers Sarah Greenwood and Jacqueline Durran - Pride And Prejudice, Atonement, Anna Karenina), are phenomenal, whether it’s the bustling re-creation of a so-called ‘provincial’ town, or an austere rendering of the incandescent castle. The effects are wonderful; all the more immersive in 3D: plates are whizzing, snowballs are thrown and candles flicker.

 Some performances work better than others. Emma Watson’s good, but for me, just looks too young to play Belle. The maturity of Keira Knightley or Gemma Arterton would’ve been better. Dan Stevens’ Beast, is covered under so much computerised motion-capture, that his performance disappears. Kevin Kline adds pathos, Luke Evans is terrific as a malevolently vain Gaston, and the voice-work is particularly strong. Ian McKellen has fun as the curmudgeonly cynical clock Cogsworth, and Emma Thompson’s absolutely perfect as sweet Mrs. Potts, but I’d have preferred to see them in human form for longer. The extraordinarily star-studded cast, yearning score and aesthetic flourishes, make it enduringly magical.

Rating: * * *

Logan

Logan, Cert: 15, 137 mins approx, 20th Century Fox and Marvel Studios.

It’s easy to forget that with today’s veritable menu of superhero or franchise blockbusters (my favourite genre) and their innumerable extrapolations of sequel, prequel, reboot and cinematic-universe crossover etc - it all began with X-Men. Since the early Superman films, they’d been lacking in popularity. That changed in 2000, when original X-Men director Bryan Singer, (helming four to date), made a surprise hit, reinvigorating audience anticipation. Its figurehead, was Hugh Jackman’s grouchy, adamantium-clawed Wolverine.

  Logan is the ninth installment, as well as the latest of three standalone chapters, which focus primarily on his character, with Jackman having long-stated this is his last appearance in the role.

 Critically lauded as the most impressive addition in recent years - it’s an almost radical departure: stripped-back, gritty, edgy and visceral. The saga’s tone has never gone this dark and daring before. While most audiences probably find this sudden change refreshing, with the cast saying: ‘It hardly felt like an X-Men movie at all’ - for me, that’s precisely the problem.

The regular X-Men films, canonically, not only feature all the mutants collaborating together, but also have spectacle, humour, action set-pieces laden with CGI, and consequently were so much more fun. I prefer them lighter and brighter, with more zip, pace, and that vital fantastical element foregrounded throughout.

Instead here, much of that is jettisoned, in favour of being so serious, paired-down, and extremely violent. Maybe not gratuitously so, but certainly unnecessary. Wolverine’s trademark slicing-and-dicing is still intact - but didn’t need quite so much blood - and occasional decapitation. It didn’t bother me personally, but the much publicised 15-rating is fully justified. Director James Mangold’s conscious choice to include both only intermittent action, and the briefest glimpse of super-powers, will suit some, and there are a few surprise twists. Jackman and Patrick Stewart’s shockingly frail Professor Xavier, hiding out in a Mexican dust-bowl, (a landscape aptly evoking the narrative’s themes of isolation), both give strong performances, as does Boyd Holbrook especially,  as a slimy new bionic villain. ‘You’re not the only one that’s been enhanced’ he drawls. As good as it is, X2 or Apocalypse are so much more satisfying.

Rating: * * *