Tanya Dudnikova reviews the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise’s ‘final adventure’.

Billed as a “soft reboot”, Dead Men Tell No Tales – also known as Salazar’s Revenge  – was supposed to be a breath of fresh air for the already long-winded Pirates of the Caribbean franchise. The writers intended to bring back the simplicity and heart of the first instalment. Instead, this hot mess of a movie feels worlds away from The Curse of the Black Pearl, and leaves you wondering whether there is any need for it to exist at all.

Directed by Norwegian duo Joachim Rønning and Espen Sandberg, whose 2012 seafaring adventure Kon-Tiki was nominated for a best-foreign language Oscar, it remains an entertaining enough summer blockbuster; die-hard fans will not be heart broken by this latest outing. But the entertainment factor and humour alone do not redeem the film’s many faults, and it struggles to stay afloat for its hefty runtime of 129 minutes.

The main gears of the film are Henry Turner (Brenton Thwaites) and Carina Smyth (Kaya Scodelario, most notable for her role in Skins). Henry is desperately looking for a way to free his father, Will Turner (Orlando Bloom, who returns – albeit very fleetingly – after his absence from the last Pirates movie) from the curse of Davy Jones. Carina is an astronomer and horologist – a word which proves the butt of one of the film’s sexual jokes, which are surprisingly numerous considering its 12A rating – determined to find the key to her past. The two are united in their search for the Trident of Poseidon, an object of legend capable of breaking every curse, as well as by their mutual desire to discover their identity and to reunite with their respective fathers. Scodelario is particularly strong as the headstrong and smart Carina (a stereotypical Hollywood ‘Strong Female Character’ that inevitably brings to mind Star Wars’ Rey), and by contrast the character of the young Henry is so entirely bland that his presence offers nothing to the film. He serves as little more than a love interest for Carina and a convenient plot device to set the quest for the Trident in motion, and he plays second fiddle to her every time the two appear together on the screen. Overall, their relationship seems a lazy rehash of the Elizabeth Swann and Will Turner romance, this time without the chemistry.

Most disappointingly, the weakest aspects of the film can be found in the once-lovable protagonist, Captain Jack Sparrow (portrayed, as always, by the one and only Johnny Depp). Here, Sparrow is relegated to the role of drunken mentor to the film’s younger protagonists, and is no longer the centrepiece of the show. Even this diminished role does not hide the fact that the times when he could singlehandedly lead the Pirates brand to success have come to an end. His drunken routine, once fresh and funny, feels stale and utterly lacking in charisma; Jack begins the film with no ship, no crew, and no luck, and although he succeeds in regaining some dignity by the end, it is clear that his glory days are over. “Face it, Jack, bad luck dogs you day and night,” he is told by his own crew mates, and it seems as though they could be talking about the actor himself. Is it perhaps time for Depp to hang up his pirate boots?

The film does benefit from some visually interesting and unforgettable set-pieces, such as the remarkable opening scene in which Jack and his band of pirates attempt to steal a bank vault from a Caribbean town, but the excitement of the earlier movies is simply not there. Even when the pacing is on point, it never feels like there’s any real sense of danger, even from the menacing Captain Armando Salazar (Javier Bardem), an undead pirate-hunter who is determined to exact revenge on Jack at all costs. Bardem, whose prosthetic makeup to turn him into a horrifically scarred villain took hours to apply every day, brings just enough emotion to the character to make him somewhat impressive, but doesn’t quite manage to make nearly as memorable an impression as Barbossa or Davy Jones.

Final verdict? Not a total disaster, but certainly no masterpiece.

5/10

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dean Men Tell No Tales (released in the UK as Pirates of the Caribbean: Salazar’s Revenge) is out now in cinemas. See the final trailer below:

Fresh from the film’s European premiere, Tanya Dudnikova reviews James Gunn’s highly-anticipated sequel.

When the original Guardians of the Galaxy first hit theatres almost three years ago, I’m sure I was not alone in being somewhat sceptical about the film’s success. Yes, I knew from the comics that the bizarre band of characters was equal parts cool, equal parts oddly loveable; and perhaps the film would make it purely on the basis of their quirkiness and originality. But it was an undeniable risk to stretch the Marvel universe beyond the boundaries of planet Earth, where it had largely been tethered in the past, and take it into the new and exciting setting of outer space. Yet James Gunn and co managed to pull it off, making what would become the freshest and funniest superhero movie to hit the screens in decades, and giving us the perfect antidote to the arguably-somewhat-enjoyable-yet-utterly-boring-and-forgettable mediocrity of the likes of the latest instalments in the Transformers and Fast & Furious franchises. The fact that it scored a worldwide box-office jackpot of $773 million didn’t hurt either. Above all, the film was two hours of pure fun – the sort of fun that would be difficult to match.

So how does Vol. 2 fare when compared to its predecessor?

The second instalment reunites group leader Peter Quill (Chris Pratt) with his misfit gang of intergalactic outlaws. The role seems tailor-made for Pratt, who is far stronger and more charismatic here than in Jurassic World or even Passengers. His cheeky wit never quivers, even as his chemistry with the green and mean Gamora (Zoe Saldana) seems to fade a little. Also returning are Drax the Destroyer (Dave Bautista), whose frankness and lack of self-awareness provides much of the film’s humour, and the troublemaking duo of foxy Rocket Racoon (voiced, as before, by Bradley Cooper) and Groot (again voiced by Vin Diesel) – here transformed into Baby Groot, a big-eyed sapling of a tree who quickly stole the limelight in the film’s advertising campaign, his sheer cuteness winning over fans. The waves of laughter that radiated across the Eventim Apollo at the European Premiere of the film on Monday pretty much every time the little sentient tree appeared on the screen certainly suggested that audiences will never tire of hearing those three simple words: “I am Groot”. The main cast is rounded off by newcomers Elizabeth Debicki, who is deliciously menacing as a golden-plated empress named Ayesha, and Kurt Russell, who portrays Ego, a bearded man with a weird name (in fact, weird names do seem to dominate this film – consider ‘Taserface’, anyone?).

It is Baby Groot who takes centre stage in the opening scene, reminiscent of the beginning of the first Guardians. As the gang takes on an octopus-like space monster, each fighting for their lives, Groot gets hold of Quill’s ever-present Sony Walkman and blissfully dances around to the sound of Electric Light Orchestra’s ‘Mr Blue Sky’ (only the beginning of a fantastic soundtrack – one that truly rivals Awesome Mix Vol. 1, a feat that once seemed almost impossible). The flashy battle is a delight to watch, if only because Gunn wants to make it clear that the sequel will be just as silly – if not more so – than the original. Space battles and typical Guardians mischief aside, however, the gears of the plot don’t really start turning until the introduction of the mysterious Ego. But who is he, and what does he want from Star Lord?

For fear of venturing into spoiler territory, I won’t say any more about the plot. To be entirely honest, it is pretty damn easy to write a spoiler free review, since the story takes the back seat in the movie anyway. This is a character piece through and through, and the arguably weak plotline is not much more than a vehicle for the protagonists to show off their quirks and to bounce jokes off each other. There is, nonetheless, one not-so-subtle overarching theme to the apparent meandering meaninglessness of it all: family. Whether it is the constant squabbling between sisters Gamora and Nebula (Karen Gillan, the cast’s one weak link), or Peter’s own soul-searching as he grapples with the lack of a father figure in his life, ideas regarding family bonds and what really ‘makes’ a family help to tie in the various plot strands of the film together very nicely. Unexpectedly, the most moving character arc of all is given to blue-skinned Ravager leader Yondu (Michael Rooker), who reveals a paternal side unseen in the previous film as he struggles to redeem himself for past mistakes. Even if it does all get a little too emotional towards the end – and you might find yourself missing the biting sarcasm and wit of the earlier scenes – the thematic cohesion does wonders in terms of overall enjoyment of the film.

All in all, Vol. 2 is just as goofy as its precursor, and that about saves it from paling in comparison. The Guardians may be heroes, but they’re dumb heroes, and their likeable charm has not worn off one bit. Gunn’s mix of heart and unfaltering spirit wins yet again.

8/10

(but still a solid 10/10 for fun)

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 is out in UK cinemas from Friday. See the final trailer below:

Tanya Dudnikova reviews Denzel Washington’s powerful adaptation of August Wilson’s play – now nominated for 4 Oscars, with Viola Davis earning a Best Supporting Actress BAFTA.

Fences has been in the making for decades. There has been talk of a movie adaptation for August Wilson’s play of the same name since its premiere thirty-three years ago. All previous efforts to bring the powerful story to the screen had been futile; the most memorable came shortly after the play won the Pulitzer Prize back in 1987, when Eddie Murphy was attached to play Cory, on the thinking that the role would give him the chance to tackle some serious material for a change. The project fell through, mainly due to Wilson’s firm insistence on hiring an African-American director. Other attempts were equally fruitless. It seemed as though perhaps Fences was destined to remain on the stage, where it seemed to fit best. Wilson did manage to complete the screenplay before his death in 2005, but did not live to see what would become of it.

Skip forward to 2017 and Fences is, at long last, out in cinemas. The key to its making came in the shape of Denzel Washington, who produces, directs, and stars in what can surely be termed his ‘passion project’. Reprising his role from the 2010 Broadway revival of the play, Washington is Troy Maxton, former baseball star in the professional “Negro Leagues”, current middle-aged garbage collector in Pittsburgh. He struggles through life in 1950s America, living each day just to be able to get to the next Friday. Also returning from the award-winning Broadway cast is Viola Davis, whose turn as Troy’s stoic and graceful wife Rose is possibly the best take-away from the film. No-nonsense Rose is the anchor holding the film together, never leaving Troy’s side, for better or for worse.

While there is no weak link amongst the stellar actors, it is undoubtedly the two leads that lift the film to a different dimension through their mammoth performances. Troy’s character arc is particularly moving. Starting out as a sympathetic, if somewhat flawed, husband and father to teenage son Cory (Jovan Adepo), we soon begin to realise that he is a man ravaged by guilt and disappointment, by chances missed and opportunities not taken. He is perpetually bitter, certain his baseball career never blossomed due to the colour of his skin – just one of the metaphorical ‘fences’ within the film – though the suggestion is that the real reason was his age. “It’s not easy for me to admit that I’ve been standing in the same place for eighteen years!” he says, and you would be heartless not to feel sorry for him at this point.

Thematically, Fences is surprisingly straightforward, and offers little in terms of ambiguity or equivocality. Racial and domestic tensions take centre stage in this character-driven drama, and many of the conflicts it explores are still relevant today. Also prevalent – maybe a little too prevalent to remain interesting until the end – are all the fence-related allusions and symbols. “Some people build fences to keep people out, and other people build fences to keep people in,” Troy says resentfully as he banishes Cory from the family home. But by that point, the explanation seems contrived and superfluous; Wilson’s speeches are too verbose to engage us for the entirety of the film’s hefty runtime of 2h 19min.

It seems as though Washington’s hard work has paid off, however, with Fences raking in four Oscar nominations at the 89th Academy Awards: Best Picture, Best Actor (Washington), Best Supporting Actress (Davis) and Best Adapted Screenplay. The placement of Davis in the Supporting Actress category has attracted some debate, with some arguing it’s a tactical choice and others suggesting it’s appropriate. Interestingly, in the initial Broadway production back in 1987, Mary Alice (who originated the role of Rose) won Best Feature Actress in a Play, while for the 2010 revival Davis contended in and won the Best Actress in a Play race. Both actresses were billed below the title – which usually signals a supporting performance – but in 2010 the administration committee ruled that the role was really a leading one. Hmmmm.

However, among the array of praise and awards, there lies one recurring, inescapable criticism: despite Washington’s respectable directorial efforts, Fences simply can’t transcend its stage roots. In a negative review, David Edelstein of New York Magazine/Vulture hits the nail on the head: “It’s not cinematic enough to make you forget you’re watching something conceived for another, more spatially constricted medium, but it’s too cinematic to capture the intensity, the concentration, of a great theatrical event.” The vast majority of the action takes place within the confines of Troy’s house and backyard, surrounded by the symbolic garden fence that gives the play its title. Outside their domestic sphere, we hardly get a glimpse of the characters’ lives. While the narrowed setting, coupled with intense close-ups and weighty monologues, effectively reflects the sense of confinement that the film tries so hard to convey, the end result looks suspiciously like a filmed Broadway performance. One cannot help but wonder what would have happened if Washington had decided to explore other avenues. After all, Fences had so much potential.

8/10

Fences is out now in UK cinemas. See the trailer below, and join us for a screening next Thursday in collaboration with DramaSoc.

Tanya Dudnikova reviews Danny Boyle’s long-awaited sequel to the 1996 cult classic.

When director Danny Boyle first announced his plans for a sequel to Trainspotting – for what would, in fact, be his first directed sequel – the news was received with innumerable questions. Is it wise to make a sequel two decades after the original? Will it bring anything new to the table? Will the old cast return? And, most importantly, will it be any good?

After its release in 1996, Trainspotting quickly came to be regarded as a cult classic and a quintessential British movie. Giving the world a delirious insight into Edinburgh’s seedy drug scene, it was equal parts shocking and provocative, its characters by turn lovable and contemptible. There was no denying that making a sequel to such an iconic movie would prove a mammoth task, but Boyle was under no illusions regarding the project he was about to undertake. The aim was to create something that would not disgrace the legacy of the franchise but would be fresh enough to attract contemporary audiences. The heavy weight of responsibility plagued the set, with hushed whispers of “it’d better not be shite” radiating among the cast and crew, and with good reason. If the film were indeed shite, they would be eaten alive by both scathing critics and a generation of nostalgic cinemagoers who grew up with Iggy Pop’s Lust for Life and Renton’s memorable “Choose Life” mantra as the backdrop to their youth.

Twenty-one years later, T2 Trainspotting (henceforth referred to as T2¹) is just as foul-mouthed but not quite as controversial as its predecessor. The sequel, which is a loose adaptation of Irvine Welsh’s Porno, catches up with the old antiheroes as they face middle age, with all its tribulations and insecurities. Ewan McGregor makes his return as Mark “Rent Boy” Renton, who goes back to Scotland to make amends with those he wronged; Ewen Bremner is back as the charming but dim-witted Spud; Jonny Lee Miller returns to his filthy ways as blonde, womanising Sick Boy, now known as Simon; and Robert Carlyle appears as Begbie, who finally orchestrates his own escape after a long spell behind bars. In Boyle’s own words, “They may be twenty years older when trying to reconnect, but they are still none the wiser”, and he is certainly not wrong.

The plot integrates fragments from both Porno and Trainspotting. It follows Renton’s endeavours as he tries to reconnect with old friends and escape the wrath of psychopathic Begbie, who seeks revenge at any cost. Highlights include a scene in which the pursuer and the pursued realise that they are separated only by the wall of a bathroom cubicle – a nod to the “Worst Toilet in Scotland” scene from 1996 – as well as a wonderfully comical and unexpected moment in which Renton and Simon improvise a sectarian chant to placate the group of Catholic-hating unionists they’re trying to rob. The same vices are ever-present, and history repeats itself; ‘First, there was an opportunity. Then, there was a betrayal’ are lines repeated throughout the film. However, this time around, when the betrayal does come it is neither surprising nor moving. The thrill is gone.

Much has changed in the years since Trainspotting was first released. Boyle has tried hard to relay this on the big screen, and the manner in which T2 retains the spirit of the original while acknowledging these changes is commendable. It is encapsulated in an updated “Choose Life” speech Renton gives to Veronika, Simon’s possible-girlfriend / business partner, by way of explanation for the slogan. Gone are the references to CD players and fixed-interest mortgage repayments, their place taken by mentions of slut shaming, reality TV, and social networks like Facebook and Twitter. In a bizarre scene that attempts to situate the film in the 2010s, Renton and Simon now bond over selfies and Snapchat filters instead of shoplifting. While the story initially concentrates more on their bittersweet relationship and gradual reconciliation, it is Ewen Bremner who ends up stealing the spotlight as Spud. Spud’s character development from beginning to end is a sheer pleasure to watch, and as his talent for storytelling is gradually revealed, we see him transform from suicidal junkie to useful and fully functioning member of society. His stories, which retell the drug-filled, exhilarating adventures from the gang’s adolescence, have the power to move even the hardest of hearts.

One of T2’s major flaws is the lack of screen time afforded to women. Kelly McDonald, who first came to attention after her acting debut as Renton’s bold schoolgirl girlfriend Diane, appears in a one-scene, two-minute cameo. Her inclusion feels forced and slightly awkward, as her present occupation as a lawyer is slotted in for an easy plot device. Equally underused is Spud’s suffering ex-girlfriend Gail (Shirley Henderson), who parents their teenage son by herself. The only female lead with a meaty part is the utterly uninteresting Veronika, played by Bulgarian newcomer Anjela Nedyalkova. She is as unsympathetic as she is beautiful, and her portrayal is disappointing in all respects; so much more could have been done with her. For Boyle, however, this is all part of the point. “We all felt that [T2 is] about masculinity really,” he asserts, “which is why there’s not many women in it, and those that are, are disappointed, or they’re secretly taking advantage of the men because they’re foolish – they are, we are.” A sufficient explanation? Perhaps, but not for everyone.

Carlyle hit the nail on the head when he praised Hodge’s screenplay and hinted that T2 “is going to be quite emotional for people. Because the film sort of tells you to think about yourself. You are going to be thinking: ‘Fuck. What have I done with my life?'” Therein lies its appeal. It is steeped in nostalgia, a wistful yearning, and the creeping realisation that all good things must come to an end. An air of disillusionment has replaced harrowing scenes of dying babies and diving into dirty toilets; heroin has become secondary to new demons – unrealised potential and the crippling depression that goes hand in hand with the inability to learn from past mistakes (although drugs still play a hefty part, and Spud’s battles in particular are painful to watch). Naturally, this altered, melancholy tone has a profound impact on the gentler pacing of the film, which does not quite live up to the manic nature of its processor. Where Trainspotting was revolutionary and indefatigable, T2 is more mature and restrained, retrospective rather than invigorating. And yet, it is still bursting with energy – albeit the diminishing energy of the visibly ageing characters – aided effectively by sharp editing and an impressive soundtrack featuring the likes of Queen, Blondie and the Clash.

It is debatable whether it is worth seeing for those who have not seen the original, since it is so heavily peppered with references and allusions. But then, that is exactly where the majority of its charm lies, in this self-referential sense of nostalgia always bubbling away under the surface, prominent enough for us to be aware of it, subtle enough for it not to get overly intrusive. Simon accuses Renton of ‘nostalgic tourism’, but it feels as though he is speaking directly to the audience. We are all nostalgic tourists after all, eager to relive the past by any means.

The verdict: T2 certainly isn’t perfect, and will not please everyone (if you want proof, read this derisive Little White Lies review); it still remains to be seen how it will fare with audiences who are too young to have watched Trainspotting. However, there is no doubt it is a respectable sequel in its own right, and an appropriate continuation of the franchise. For those who want a trip down memory lane (and the crushing realisation of impending doom and disappointment as we all crawl towards death), there can be nothing better. Hats off to Danny Boyle.

7.5/10

T2 Trainspotting is out in UK cinemas now. See the trailer below:

¹Danny Boyle’s explanation of the title was that “[he] always thought that if these characters were asked to do a sequel they would agree reluctantly and say ‘all right but you have got to call it T2 so that you can annoy James Cameron (director of Terminator 2: Judgement Day, commonly referred to as T2)’”. [The Scotsman]

Ahead of our Trip To The Oscars screening next Tuesday, Tanya Dudnikova reviews Kenneth Lonergan’s awards season favourite. 

In a busy awards season, Kenneth Lonergan’s long-awaited Manchester By The Sea feels like a breath of fresh air. Lonergan’s screenplay was featured on the 2014 Black List, an annual round-up of the best screenplays which have not been picked up for production, and the finished film does not by any means disappoint. Centred on gloomy, taciturn janitor and handyman Lee, portrayed beautifully by Casey Affleck in without a doubt a career-best performance, the film manages to be in turn tear-jerking and funny, oscillating smoothly between drawn-out moments of contemplation and moving exchanges between the stellar leads.

Stony-faced Lee Chandler, living in a tiny flat in a lifeless Boston apartment block, is a man of few words. Scene by scene, Lonergan builds up a picture of him as a melancholy recluse with a penchant for picking fights in bars with strangers at a slight provocation. His voice is almost eerily soft, and he never gives us a glimpse into what is really going on inside his head; the audience is left in the dark, excluded from his internal narrative. For the first half of the film, the reasons for his behaviour are unexplained, although it is clear from the outset that we are looking at a broken man, a man who is a mere shell of his previous self. This idea is repeatedly expressed in the form of flashbacks which feature a much happier Lee and an engaging performance from Kyle Chandler as Lee’s older brother Joe, the cheerier counterpart to Lee’s malcontent.

In the present, Lee’s monotonous life is suddenly disrupted when he learns that Joe has died after a years-long battle with congenital heart disease, forcing him to return to his hometown of Manchester-by-the-Sea – a real town on the north shore of Massachusetts – to make funeral arrangements. Matters are further complicated when he is told that he has been made the legal guardian of Joe’s teenage son, Patrick (Lucas Hedges). Patrick is a typical teenager, concerned above all with keeping his life as it was before the tragedy – his friends, his two girlfriends (who, he hastens to explain, do not know about each other, ‘so please don’t say anything in case it comes up’), his hockey team and his band. It is in the interactions between Lee and Patrick that the film truly blossoms, if in a rather unexpected manner. The opening section of the film signposts that what we are about to witness is a story of renewal and reconciliation, where the bitter janitor’s heart is thawed through this tender relationship with the younger boy. But Lonergan, very wisely, chooses not to go down the conventional path, preferring instead to leave the story as an open exploration of angst and bereavement. When the reason for Lee’s grief is finally revealed to us – and it is truly heartbreaking – we begin to understand that maybe he is a man who cannot, and will not, ever be healed.

Also in the picture is Lee’s ex-wife Randi, played by Michelle Williams, who despite limited screen time manages to quietly but powerfully seize our attention every time she appears on the screen. With appearances from Gretchen Mol as Patrick’s estranged alcoholic mother, Elise, Matthew Broderick as Patrick’s religious stepfather and Kara Hayward as Silvie, one of Patrick’s girlfriends (Hayward and Hedges previously appeared together in Wes Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom), the cast is indeed exceptional, but there is no doubt it is Affleck who deserves most of the praise. Despite raking in an Oscar nomination for The Assassination of Jesse James in 2008, in recent years there has been a sense that Casey is living in his brother’s shadow. Here, however, he finally affirms his status as a leading man who can draw not only critical acclaim but also impressive box-office figures. The entire film is built around Affleck’s measured and restrained performance, which, ironically, is also one of its major flaws. For a film that can be seen as a study of grief and the pain of struggling to move on it is at times surprisingly emotionless. Filtered through Affleck’s cold and distant gaze, scenes that should be overflowing with feeling appear callous, and not nearly as emotive as they might have been. Another area where the film falters marginally is in its pacing. With a hefty runtime of 137 minutes, there are a handful of sections that feel superfluous, not adding either to the story or character development.

Despite some mild shortcomings, Lonergan’s brooding drama still manages to be one of the best films of the year, and well worth watching. By choosing to focus not on the grandiose, but on the minutiae of human life and the day-to-day struggles of its characters, he has created a film that feels more real than anything else you will see on the screen this season.

8/10

Manchester By The Sea is out now in UK cinemas – come along to our Trip To The Oscars screening of the film next Tuesday. See the UK trailer below: