Rampart

****

Oren Moverman’s follow-up to the Oscar-nominated The Messenger sees the writer/director again not shying away from challenging subjects and the downright bleak. 

Dave “Date Rape” Brown (Woody Harrelson) is an unapologetic misanthrope who is happy to dish out merciless beatings. Sometimes he even shoots people. He’s also a member of the Rampart Division of LAPD, which serves the mostly-Hispanic communities of Downtown Los Angeles. The “Date Rape” moniker refers to an incident in which he’d unlawfully (allegedly) killed a serial rapist. This is a real-life case and one on which the film is based. Brown’s case is ongoing and he gets into further hot water with Internal Affairs as the film progresses. For all his cowboy cop ways he’s a smart guy and, helpfully, something of a hotshot when it comes to all matters legal.

His violence, misogyny and racism - to name just a few of his key attributes – helps him to flush his life down the toilet. It’s a tough watch at times but insanely compulsive viewing. The director shows flair and ingenuity in capturing the heat and intensity of driving a black and white on LA’s mean streets. And the dialogue crackles. Although there have been many James Ellroy film adaptations he is rarely involved in writing the screenplays. Ellroy actually scripted this, with Moverman, and it’s a joy hearing his uncompromising words coming out of the actors’ mouths. Impressively, some of those mouths belong to Sigourney Weaver, Anne Heche, Cynthia “SATC” Nixon, Robin Wright, Ice Cube, Steve Buscemi, Ned Beatty (well into his seventies and nice to see him still doing good work) and the talented Ben Foster (who also takes a producing credit). But it is very much Harrelson’s film. Adding to a career of interesting choices, he completely inhabits the role of an intensely-dangerous man: the police officer you’d never want to be caught by.

Les Géants (The Giants)

***

My personal London Film Festival experience gets off to a promising start with this endearing film from director Bouli Lanners. In the grand tradition of lazy journalistic shorthand one might say this is Stand by Me meets Winter’s Bone. While the coming-of-age aspect lacks that of Rob Reiner’s 1986 film, it could teach Winter’s Bone a thing or two about making hillbilly gangsters scary.

For reasons unknown, 15-year-old Seth and 13-year-old Zak are abandoned by their mother. Left to fend for themselves at home, they are joined by their friend Danny. Systematically beaten by his psychotic older brother he is glad to get away. In the absence of adult supervision the boys roam the countryside, smoking weed and getting drunk. The situation becomes increasingly serious as they run out of money and food. A solution to their problems involves a local drug dealer. Then things turn even worse.

The story is a little slight and I’m not sure what it all means in the end. The director seemed to, ultimately, celebrate their “freedom” but I couldn’t help feeling practical, adult concerns over the boys’ welfare. With no parents, no home and no education what could possibly go right? The film is warm, funny and gentle but also sporadically nasty. It captures the anarchic bent of teenage boys. Without any grown-ups around chaos, unsurprisingly, reigns. (As a result they live in squalor.)

As civilisation progresses steadily into the 21^st century it is a sobering reminder that there are still many in the world quite willing to neglect, abuse or exploit those who are weaker and more helpless than themselves - namely kids.

Crazy, Stupid, Love

***

Directing duo Glenn Ficarra and John Requa, who brought us the uniquely funny I Love You Philip Morris give us something more conventionally-comedic here. That is not to say it’s not funny. What it lacks in innovation it makes up for in big belly laughs. And for that we must, essentially, thank its writer Dan Fogleman, who made his name scripting the likes of Bolt, Tangled and Cars for Disney and Pixar.

Crazy, Stupid, Love sees Cal (Steve Carrell) separating from his wife then forming odd couple with ladies’ man Jacob (Ryan Gosling) to learn how to be… surprise, surprise… a ladies’ man. The not-unattractive Gosling, donning a series of killer suits makes the slickly super-cool look effortless. Here he is every inch the movie star. Along with Drive and the Clooney-directed The Ides of March (also starring Gorgeous George) soon to hit our screens it looks like 2011 will be the year Gosling goes stratospheric. The perfect foil for Mr Smooth is Steve Carrell. While hilariously hapless, Carrell is capable of real tenderness when required. It’s a reminder of his genuine acting chops. There’s a wealth of talent on display: the esteemed likes of Marisa Tomei and Julianne Moore are in the film, as is the eternally-underrated Kevin Bacon. At the younger end of the spectrum, Emma Stone again proves herself eminently watchable and there are good roles for youngsters Analeigh Tipton and Jonah Bobo, each nursing painfully-unrequited crushes.

It does cheese out in the third act and, running at 118 minutes, it’s sad it didn’t end half an hour sooner, but it’s gleefully un-thought-provoking stuff. Guaranteed to put a smile on the most serious of faces.

Warrior

****

It’s completely understandable if you have preconceived ideas about this film (in a not good way). But it’s best to put them aside. The poster, undeniably fetishising the bodies of the two leads, doesn’t exactly help. The mixed martial arts in this film is incidental. It is not a film about mixed martial arts. (Or rather, I should say, Ultimate Fighting Championship or UFC.) Instead it offers a very moving story of a family torn apart, with the conduit of that story being men fighting in cages.

Following active duty in Iraq, Tommy Conlon (Tom Hardy) returns to Pittsburgh to be reunited with his father (Nick Nolte), under whose reign of alcoholic abuse the family suffered. They form an uneasy alliance when Tommy recruits him as his trainer for an international UFC tournament. Older brother Brendan (Joel Edgerton) is a family man, high school teacher and also an ex-fighter. Money worries force him back into the cage and it’s only a matter of time before the two brothers meet – mano a mano.

Hardy’s tortured loner with his monosyllables and wounded animal persona certainly offers more danger and mystique than Edgerton’s Mr Straight but it is Edgerton who is the revelation. As well as impressing with the physical stuff, the guy can really act. That is not to say Tom “So-Hot-Right-Now” Hardy can’t. But, in their scenes together, he does get somewhat KO’d by veteran Nick Nolte. As the pained father offering too little too late, in Nolte we see the pinnacle of a lifetime spent in movies - he just gets better and better. I am being slightly unfair to Hardy, considering he has more acting ability in a single nostril than the likes of an entire Chuck Norris; whereas Hardy really brings it when it comes to the scraps.

Even if you have no interest in UFC the fight scenes are impressively raw and realistic. Director Gavin O’Connor strikes just the right balance between Hollywood gloss and indie grit to make the whole thing work – inside and outside the cage. It is a surprisingly thoughtful tale of a family, the abuse that family sustained and the resulting baggage; all set against an undeniably-thrilling mixed martial arts backdrop.

Drive

****

Director Nicolas Winding Refn has created an instant cult classic. This film is unquestionably cool. For example, avoiding all driving clichés, the soundtrack features not a single guitar, instead opting for an electronica bubblegum audio backdrop which beautifully matches that oh-so-modern of cities in which it is set: Los Angeles.

A mysterious stranger in the shape of the unnamed Driver (Ryan Gosling) offers his customers no guns, no muscle, just a means to get away. And all done with a four-stroke of genius. It’s basically cowboy mythology updated to a very dangerous present. He becomes inextricably involved with a young mum (Carey Mulligan). Her ex-con husband’s past is catching up with him and putting them and their son in danger, so the Driver offers his services to help them.

Gosling’s performance is slightly weird - it’s not exactly the manliest. But as soon as he gets in the driving seat he’s as Alpha as they come. Killer casting prevails. Bryan Cranston (of Breaking Bad fame) proves further acting mettle. Christina Hendricks (of Mad Men) makes her mark in a smaller role. Ron Perlman leaves his usual big-softyness for dust, playing a genuinely scary character. And going well against type, Albert Brooks plays someone who simply enjoys killing.

It’s a beautiful-looking film. It’s vibrantly colourful. It’s also remarkably violent. But this movie called Drive - about a stunt driver who also drives getaway cars - is slightly lacking in one aspect: the eponymous driving. The action mostly surrounds the noir/thriller aspect and not the stuff on four wheels. Although a little short-changed on this front, the initial car chase is perfection. Shot entirely from inside the getaway vehicle its tension and exhilaration easily rivals that Holiest of Grails of car chases, from Bullitt.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

***

Forget everything you've learnt. Being a spy is not sexy. Exhibit A Yer Honour, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. The ironically-monikered George Smiley (Gary Oldman) is stuffy and middle-aged. (NB: this is in the days when being in your fifties looked like being in your seventies.) At one point he unceremoniously removes his Walther PPK - that’s James Bond’s gun - not from a sleek shoulder holster but from a shabby plastic wallet just as he might his sandwiches. This, incidentally, is a rare occasion when we actually see some hardware.

It’s the early seventies. The Cold War is positively glacial and Smiley is tracking down a double agent in British intelligence. The action flows at glacial speed too. There is little made of actual operations. They are momentary but incendiary. The onus is on finding the Soviet mole in the “Circus” (The Secret Intelligence Service).

The performances and attention to period detail is the main charm. The production design is stunning, and all things sartorial – even the most staid – offer some kind of allure. Weirdly, the film manages to be attractive while simultaneously showing up the crappiness of seventies Britain and its Empire in serious decay. Smiley is a laconic sort and, as a result, Oldman delivers a potent, internalised performance. He is backed by a strong British cast – from relative newcomers (Tom Hardy, Benedict Cumberpatch) to stalwarts (Mark Strong, Ciarin Hinds, Tobey Jones) to an Oscar-winner (Colin Firth) to a living legend (John Hurt). Unsurprisingly, the acting’s not bad.

Smiley almost disappears within the large cast and fragmented story. Other than being King of the poker face we are given little indication of his strengths. It is not a character-driven story of Smiley but it’s neither a balls-to-the-wall spy flick. Instead, it occupies a vapid no-man’s land between the two. It is easy to be dazzled by such slick production value when the actual story is lifeless as this.

Winter’s Bone

**

Winter’s Bone has a lot to offer in terms of authenticity. Director Debra Granik’s film set in a methamphetamine-afflicted community in the Ozark Mountains drips with realism. It’s a shame it’s so dull. When the majority of a film’s cast is made up of dangerous rednecks high on crystal meth, it really should be more interesting than this.

17 year-old Ree Dolly (Jennifer Lawrence) has a messed-up mum and an absent father. This means she has to raise her two young siblings. Daddy is a meth chemist awaiting trial. He has put the house up as part of his bond and gone AWOL. If he doesn’t turn up to court they lose the house. To save the family home Ree searches for her father, meeting a number of people who are disturbing or disturbed.

Granik cites Ken Loach and Mike Leigh as influences. Visually she has more to offer than both of those directors. Then again that may be down to the tiniest hint of Americana being so much more cinematic than a lot of say, London. The attention to detail – in all things hillbilly – is impressive; the younger kids playing has a touch of Gummo about it, guns are casually loaded and left lying around like any household item, and I can’t say I’ve ever seen a squirrel being skinned for dinner before. However, none of it says a huge deal other than, it sucks being this poor. And there is a lot of repetition – in terms of imagery and even plot.

Newcomer Jennifer Lawrence is good but, as with the film in general, overrated. The superb John Hawkes - who I’ll always think of as the awkward Richard in indie favourite, Me and You and Everyone We Know – here plays a twitching ball of drug psychosis, like Dennis Hopper on a bad day. Sadly the script he was given is weak. The dialogue is minimal and what there is of it carries little weight. Granik does have a good eye but if the characters are going to talk this little then the images need to say a lot more.