REVIEW: Brooklyn (2015)

Brooklyn comes with all the bells and whistles of a major Hollywood production, but underneath its classical trappings, its score and its range of veteran character actors credited under ‘with’ and ‘and’, the film is refreshingly simple and personal.

The film begins in Enniscorthy in Wexford in 1950, Eilis Lacey (Saoirse Ronan) is a young woman in her twenties with no prospects in her home town. She has decided to go to America in an effort to find a better life. She moves to Brooklyn with the help of her sister Rose (Fiona Glascott) and friendly priest Father Flood (Jim Broadbent). Suffering initially from homesickness, Eilis finds love in an Italian-American Tony (Emory Cohen) and manages to make the big city feel like home. However, a tragedy forces her back to Ireland and she begins to question the meaning of home.

Brooklyn is an old-fashioned story and its handling here feels very much like a throwback to classical Hollywood. John Crowley’s direction is all stately, well-framed shots and slow, ruminative tracking shots – a bit of a surprise considering the jerky, nervy Intermission. Indeed, everything from the direction to the costumes, the score and the tame humour adds to this impression. And as an old-fashioned romance tearjerker, it works quite well, moving along at a decent pace, tightening the screws with only an element of manipulation. The romance between Eilis and Tony and Eilis and Irishman Jim (Domhnall Gleeson) are pleasing without being overly convincing. The romances here falter from a feeling of narrative convenience in some stretches, rather than a natural character development. However, this hurdle is overcome by the sincerity of the performances. Ronan goes for quiet and subtle throughout, which works quite well and is a pleasant surprise in a film released towards a particular season. Julie Walters and Broadbent do great work in little character roles. Cohen and Gleeson suffer a little from under-written characters, but their performances are very good.  

As an adaptation, it flounders at certain stretches trying to fit in too many nuances that may work better in prose, often to the detriment of other moments that don’t get the time they deserve. The two central romances never totally seem right – both develop too quickly and inevitably to be wholly recognisable. This is not as much of a problem as it may seem, since the film’s clear focus is on Eilis herself and not on her romances. However the film falters in other ways. Late in the film, Eilis cannot seem to decide if she should remain in Ireland with Jim or go back to Brooklyn and Tony. We know that the Ireland and Jim option will not be chosen, having been given so pervasive a sense of a community conspiring to keep her there that all, even Jim, are appear suspect. But when she does decide to return to Tony, it seems as much to do with a bad run in with the evil Miss Kelly (played by Brid Brennan on slight material) than her independence or her love for Tony.

Where the film does work very well is as a tale of Irish emigration, of leaving one home and trying to make a new home of a confusing new place. This is where Ronan particularly shines – in quiet scenes, often alone, she creates a three-dimensional character who is confused and contradictory, happy and sad, nervous and excited, but always with an inner confidence and strength. Her performance holds the film together.

A poignant and traditional story of a young woman emigrating and making a home for herself, Brooklyn is a moving, funny and likable film. Though the film is a little light on development, it will stay in the mind for its heart-breaking examination of emigration, its avoidance of ‘big’ scenes and a great central performance. It’s also quite nice to hear a bit of Gaeilge in such a wide release.

REVIEW: Le Week-End (2013)

Is Roger Michell a bit of a copy? Notting Hill is a close re-run of Four Weddings and a Funeral, the nosy Hyde Park on Hudson feels like an unofficial sequel to The King’s Speech and now Le Week-end comes off the back of the success of grey pound films about older people abroad such as The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. But is Le Week-end better than that?

Yes and no. Nick and Meg (Jim Broadbent and Lindsay Duncan) are approaching old age. They go to Paris in an effort to recreate some good old times but also to escape from their problems back home in England. Although they are skint, they check into a very expensive hotel and eat in a slew of posh restaurants. Their trip comes to resemble an escape from reality as they try somewhat desperately to turn back to clock and be young and foolish again.

Written by Hanif Kureishi (My Beautiful Laundrette and Michell’s Venus), Le Week-end is more complex than a comparison to The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel would suggest. Indeed, Le Week-end, despite the posters and the trailers, is not a cosy, light comedy but something a lot darker. Nick and Meg are coming to terms with disappointment and their unfulfilled ability, dying love, suffocation and a growing sense that they are becoming obsolete. Often, Kureishi will allow scenes that were initially funny to become suddenly awkward, even off-putting, as a sudden irritation or misunderstanding leads to another argument. Another, better comparison would be Before Midnight – or perhaps the fifth instalment of that series if one is ever produced. Le Week-end can be rather brave at times, primarily by recognising that older people are not sexless and content, that they can harbour deep resentments and still maintain sexual needs. Often the film’s best moments are its sudden shifts from light comedy to dark, frank drama.

However, the film is also very conventional, irritatingly so. Certain dramatic scenes play out like moments from Judd Apatow films – of serious intention but so unrealistic that the characters become cartoonish at the moment that they are supposed to be at their most believable. These scenes occur primarily towards the end of the film, particularly Nick’s talk with old college friend Morgan’s (Jeff Goldblum giving a fascinating ‘big’ but subtle performance) son Michael (Olly Alexander), who acts merely as a sounding board to Nick’s problems in a scene that no teenager would sit through so comfortably in real life. Soon afterwards, there is a round of after-dinner speeches, which don’t work at all, especially since Nick and Meg have been so reserved before now. The main problem here is that while before Nick and Meg were difficult but understandable, they now become rather self-obsessed and self-dramatising. Quite why they suddenly feel the need to open up about their deepest, darkest fears to a group of people they have never met before is bewildering.

Other than that, they only other irritating thing about Le Week-end is its habit of celebrating how irritating British people can be on holiday, making this film the conventional equivalent of Joanna Hogg’s much more art house but equally irritating Brits-on-holiday films, Unrelated and Archipelago – yet more films that Le Week-end resembles. It also recreates a scene from Godard’s Bande à part (Band of Outsiders), though it is not the Louvre scene – itself recreated in Bertolucci’s great The Dreamers. Although this is another series of films that Le Week-end resembles, this particular moment is nicely judged and somewhat cheery. Le Week-end is likeably nostalgic for the radicalism of the 1960s, with not only Godard films referenced but also the writings of Proust and Gramsci – both in vogue at the time. The film offers an interesting look at how young radicals can end up as part of the establishment – something proven with the depressing casting of so many of the stars of the British New Wave in the dull, safe Quartet.

In the end, Michell and Kureishi’s film is interesting and somewhat likable, though it is unsure how serious or silly it wants to be. It needs the rigour of Richard Linklater but the apparent adulation for Godard is a nice touch. When it isn’t reminding you of some other film, Le Week-end may just be unique – and there are enough of these moments to allow the film to briefly transcend its tacky marketing and conventionally arch plot devices.

REVIEW: Cloud Atlas (2013)

Cloud Atlas is nothing if not ambitious, and it will stand or fall by one’s own personal susceptibility to cosmic interconnectedness and the like. Otherwise, it is a big, intelligent, rather whimsical journey beyond the realms of disbelief. Not unlike the recent cinema of Christopher Nolan, Cloud Atlas is big, fascinating and helplessly silly.

Cloud Atlas moves, often gracefully, through six different narratives set in six different times: 1849, 1936, 1973, 2012, 2144 and 2314. Generally, all six stories are of a rebellion against a repressive society and of a good deed inspiring future events and uprisings. The stories and the characters therein mirror other stories and characters, with most of the cast returning in each story. 

It mirrors some of the themes of both The Matrix and Run Lola Run, so the choice of directors was an interesting one, though Tykwer has the upper hand with less ridiculous, though still quite unbelievable, material to work with.

When Godard makes a film, that film’s sheer incomprehensibility makes a critic stop, rewind and try again often with a help of some written supplementary material. Cloud Atlas is choppy and messy and not always entirely coherent, but, like Godard, it is more from a wealth of information than from a lack of it. Like the equally enigmatic 2001: A Space Odyssey, Cloud Atlas marks one of the few times that Hollywood has used big spectacle and epic range to pursue the big questions of life. Cloud Atlas is certainly laudable from this perspective, but its ideas and answers are another matter and it is here that Jean-Marc Vallée’s Café de Flore rings a bell. Cloud Atlas suggests that events recur and souls develop through time and that people have been here before and have been beset by corresponding dilemmas. Everything happens for a reason and there is such a thing as reincarnation. To bring back Godard, that filmmaker plays with incomprehension but he always delivered a real-world message, be it political or artistic or social. Cloud Atlas makes our minds work hard, but the goal is ultimately a silly, fruitless one. Cloud Atlas makes us believe in an unreality, albeit a recognisably subversive and hopeful one, instead of offering us something that might impact on the here and now (it’s whimsical, likable but barmy 2012 sequence seems to be on the cusp of collapsing into the unreality of 2144 and 2314 dystrophies).

That said, the film is full of fascinating moments, such as when we see a journal being written in 1849 by Adam Ewing (Jim Sturgess) is read 1936 by Robert Frobisher (Ben Whishaw). His letters detailing his impressions of the journals are re-read by an old friend Rufus Sixsmith (James D’Arcy) in 1973. He assists Luisa Rey (Halle Berry) with an investigation, which Rey will eventually write a book about, which will be published by Timothy Cavendish (Jim Broadbent) in 2012. Timothy’s adventures will inspire a film that is watched in 2144 by Sonmi-451 (Doona Bae), who… Often this is conveyed rather intelligentally through montage where certain items or a voiceover mark the passing of time. It can sometimes recall the work of Chris Marker with its evocative representation of time, which is no bad thing.

Some difficulties remain. Some of the stories, especially 2012, are outright farce and fail to gel convincingly with the rest of the film, which can often be somber. Similarly, 2144 would be more emotionally effective if it had the time to be. Most damaging of all is the multiple roles that each actor plays. Many actors return to play older men and women under heavy make-up that really makes them look like monsters from The Lord of the Rings. This problem beset Clint Eastwood’s reasonable J Edgar last year and the make-up hasn’t improve since. More distracting still is the spectacle of seeing Jim Sturgess being made up to look Asian or Ben Whishaw playing a woman. The end credits run through each actor’s roles in order to reveal who played who, with Halle Berry playing a white Asian nurse being a real shock. Presumably the idea is to further suggest a link between otherwise related characters – Hugo Weaving almost always plays an evil henchman to Hugh Grant’s chief villian – but it is slightly off-putting. Cloud Atlas is a film that requires concentration and the casting seems slightly like an act of self-sabotage.

Cloud Atlas is ambitious, big and frequently surprising, but it is a philosophically orientated Star Wars movie that does little or says little about the way we live now. As powerful as it is, it is a film that has nothing real to say. However, it has a wealth of ideas, a strong cast and an almost fearless willingness to take some big risks, all of which mark it out as something of a misnomer in Hollywood’s recent output. It is easy to get very wrapped up in it and it encourages and rewards an active engagement. On top of that, it can be rather moving at times. Surprisingly, it is all very likable.

REVIEW: Perrier's Bounty (2009)

  This film comes with a lot of pedigree. Presumably coming off the back of the success of 2008 masterpiece ‘In Bruges’, with the director of ‘A Film With Me In It’ and the writer of ‘Intermission’ and starring Brendan Gleeson, Jim Broadbent, Cillian Murphy and Liam Cunningham, how could it be bad? Well…it isn’t. OK, it isn’t going to give the Irish film industry the kick up the backside that it needs, but it is a very funny 88 minutes and entertaining to beat the band.

  You are alerted to the film’s tone from the off, with a bouncy and colourful opening credit sequences and an introduction by a fun, cynical and annoyingly recognisable narrator. The story is that of a fairly conventional comedy thriller with a heavy dose of seedy locations and even seedier characters. Cillian Murphy’s Michael owes local gangster Perrier (the ever dependable Gleeson) money and has no way of getting it. Things get worse and worse until Michael is forced into hiding, taking suicidal neighbour Brenda (Jodie Whittaker of Venus fame) and dying estranged father (Broadbent) along with him. Perrier puts a bounty on their heads and the hunt is on. It may sound like something you’ve seen before, but the film’s humour raises it to a much higher level, allowing for some brilliantly unexpected little scenes, such as when Gleeson consoles a grieving henchman and when two wheel-clampers get in over their heads.

  The fun script is full of seedy characters spouting philosophical nonsense and tracts about non-existent codes of honour and even the Grim Reaper has a part to play. The characters are all very likable in the vein of Intermission’s multiple characters. Not one of them is innocent but fun performances and good scripting allow you to forget that. What’s great about the film is that it never gets too serious in an effort to be more than just a punchy comedy chase movie. Alongside the laughs, thrills and plentiful spills the film is a pseudo-profound mediation on something or other, which gives it a very enjoyable tongue in cheek feel but isn’t tackled seriously. Art this is not, and the film knows it. As the all-knowing narrator says, “Anyway…bit of craic, no?”