The Muppets

**** 

These guys need no introduction. Except perhaps: it’s time to play the music, it’s time to light the lights, it’s time to meet the muppets on The Muppet Show tonight. And indeed this is exactly how we see them, putting on a show at The Muppet Theatre. The Muppets is a throwback to earlier more successful works (and that certainly includes the TV show), embracing all that worked before. Their last outing was 1999‘s Muppets from Space. This is far more pared-down and foregoes any unnecessary guff and gimmicks. It has resulted in a much purer work that has delighted both fans and critics around the world.

It starts with Gary (Jason Segel) growing up next to his brother Walter in Smalltown, USA. While it is noted there’s something different about Walter, nobody mentions the fact that he’s a muppet. Gary sets off on a romantic excursion to LA with Mary (Amy Adams) to celebrate their anniversary. They also bring Walter. On a guided tour of The Muppet Theatre they find that dastardly oil magnate Tex Richman (Chris Cooper) has discovered oil under the theatre. The only way to stop him from destroying the place is to reunite the Muppets and put on a telethon to save it.

The film is peppered with celebrity cameos but they are not given a chance to dominate. Some of them barely get a look in (let alone a line). The stars of this show are the muppets themselves. The key humans play it nicely opposite their fuzzy counterparts: Jason Segel delivers just the right balance of average Joe and wide-eyed wonder to make it work, while Amy Adams seems perfectly at home in another Disneyfied setting. The songs have a sensational energy to them. For this, credit should be given to director James Bobin, no stranger to a musical number having directed Flight of the Conchords, and to Bret McKenzie himself (of Conchords fame), who wrote the music. One of the songs, Man or Muppet has even been nominated for an Oscar.

While the film’s outlook is sweet and un-cynical, it’s a very knowing script, filled with self-reflexive humour. (Along with Nicholas Stoller, Jason Segel also takes a writing credit.) This adds to the film’s charm and makes for a peculiarly joyful film experience.

Everything Must Go

***

This sees Will Ferrell in straight mode as opposed to comedic. Well, straightish since there is a lot of comedic value to Everything Must Go. But that’s in a brilliantly-indie fashion.

Nick Halsey loses his job and his wife in the same day. He comes home to find himself locked out of the house with everything he owns laid out on his front lawn. He has a history of alcohol problems and the day’s events prompt him to fall off the wagon. He proceeds to camp out on said lawn, getting steadily drunk and having a yard sale of all his conveniently-dumped stuff.

Based on the Raymond Carver short story, Why Don’t You Dance, this is appealingly un-obvious subject matter for a movie. Director Dan Rush shows a light touch. He doesn’t hammer home any message and is not judgemental of Nick’s behaviour. He does show the consequences of that way of life but not in a heavy-handed way. Things get dark when it emerges the reason for Nick’s firing is because of an unexplained “incident” with a female colleague, which occurred during one of his blackouts. No, all is not sweetness and light in indieland. The mild-mannered Nick certainly has a ticking time bomb quality about him. He befriends Kenny (Christopher Jordan Wallace), a neglected kid from the neighbourhood to whom he passes on some of his business acumen. This odd couple relationship, for example, is a fun one but handled without any cutsieness.

Rebecca Hall gives yet another effective (American) performance. She displays undeniable allure as his pregnant neighbour deserted by her husband. Will Ferrell exudes pathos in a quiet, restrained performance. He also gives good drunk and not in a slurring, clichéd way.

The film is ultimately a little unfulfilling but it is distinctly original and has an endearing sweetness. It’s a good script (from the director also) and a strong debut. Sadly it didn’t fare too well at the box office – even with comedy behemoth Ferrell at its forefront. So sadly, I’m not sure what the future holds for Mr Rush.

Young Adult

****

Director Jason Reitman re-teams with writer Diablo Cody, with whom he made Juno. However, none of the warm fuzziness of that film can be found here. Young Adult is hard, cold and not the most pleasant of watches. Saying all that, it’s wickedly funny.

Mavis Gary (Charlize Theron) is a ghost writer of a popular series of books for teens - the target market being ‘Young Adult’. She is lonely, unfulfilled, and has problems with alcohol. You might say she is sick. Her actions certainly are in this film. She receives an email announcement that her ex-boyfriend, the happily-married Buddy (Patrick Wilson) has become a father. She promptly decides that actually she and him belong together and sets out to get Buddy back. Her mission takes her back to Mercury, the small town in which she reigned as both Prom Queen and Queen Bitch. She strikes up an uneasy friendship with Matt (Patton Oswalt) who was the victim of a vicious hate crime that left him disabled.

Dark stuff, huh. But Reitman has a knack for making gloomy subjects entertaining (the cigarette industry, teenage pregnancy, sacking employees) and with this he doesn’t disappoint. It’s also probably his darkest film to date. As with his previous work, this is smart, script-led film-making that is simultaneously realistic and hilarious. He also has some great visual flourishes without being flashy. The central performance from Theron is startlingly unsympathetic. You’d be hard pushed to find a less likeable lead. As the acid-tongued Mavis, stuck in the past and unwilling to move on, she is brilliant in the role. The rest of the cast is superb; notably Patrick Wilson who always seems on the verge of making it huge yet remains a quietly-respected screen presence, and Patton Oswalt is dryly funny.

It also paints a very believable picture of alcohol abuse. Mavis is not a homeless wino, she's a functioning alcoholic. Albeit a seriously dysfunctional one.

Moneyball

*** 

Nominated for no less than six Oscars I can see why the Academy warmed to this: Based on a true story. Tick. Plucky underdog. Tick. Triumph in the face of adversity. Tick. And also penned by not one but two Oscar-winning writers (Aaron Sorkin and Steven Zaillian).

Billy Beane (Brad Pitt) is the general manager of the Oakland Athletics. The team has a fraction of the budget of the bigger sides. One such team, the New York Yankees soundly beat them early on in the film. Beane hooks up with Yale graduate and player analyst Peter Brand (Jonah Hill) who has some progressive ideas about the game. The team they put together for the new season – within their budget - is a misfit bunch of cheap players. Together, these undervalued players, according to Brand’s numbers, have the means to beat teams with big expensive stars.

Good performances, sharp dialogue and assured direction hide some serious flaws in this film. The main problem is that it’s incredibly dull. (Beane has a superstition about watching games so, basically, he doesn’t.) A recurring line in the film is, “it’s hard not to be romantic about baseball” and I have to agree. It strikes me as an elegant sport and clearly one that is cinematic. So it’s a crying shame we see so little of it. Even when the team starts to win director Bennett Miller denies us any opportunity to relish the glory. Instead we see a lot of extreme close-ups of pixelated statistics, and interiors of the Oakland A’s dingy offices. The key players are underwritten and none of them seem to have any kind of character arc. While there are some good scenes – with authentic performers having authentic conversations – none of them are great. The script is completely style over substance. One example sees Beane and Brand buying and selling players as the transfer deadline approaches. It’s a fun scene: the dialogue is bandied around at Sorkian warp speed as they field a bunch of calls, and cut some killer deals in a short space of time. But they are discussing players we have barely been introduced to (that they are selling) and ones we have not yet heard of (that they are buying). It’s hard to get excited by any of this.

It is a fascinating story, though, and the subject matter should just about hold anyone’s attention. It’s not exactly bad but it is overrated. On paper the film is certainly Oscar bait but it is distinctly lacking in a number of areas. Its current omnipresence in awards races (over far worthier omissions) can only be explained by the pedigree of the talent involved.

The Adjustment Bureau

***

George Nolfi scripted the likes of Ocean’s, Bourne and now this, which he has adapted from a Philip K. Dick short story. Reuniting with Matt Damon and wearing the director’s hat for the first time Nolfi has delivered a fantastically-assured debut.

David Norris (Damon) is a Brooklyn-born, no-nonsense candidate for the US Senate. Following the collapse of his campaign he meets a beautiful stranger Elise (Emily Blunt) but dark forces - the eponymous Bureau - intervene to keep the pair apart. These trilby-sporting, mysterious men are there to keep everyone on the right path. If someone strays from “the plan” they step in to make adjustments.

The Adjustment Bureau is a bit of a genre mash-up. It starts as a political thriller, turns into a melon-twisting sci-fi but is, essentially, a love story. Nevertheless, a consistent tone is maintained well. Damon and Blunt have a terrific chemistry and you cannot help but root for the pair of them and their love affair. Blunt is funny, charming and demonstrates even more breadth to her talent. Her character is a dancer and, not ever having professional experience, she trained hard for the performance scenes. She's so good I assumed she'd had some kind of background in dance. Damon convinces as both political bigwig and man on the run. I like this kind of action hero. Norris is someone unused to being in such situations. As I much as I love those guys, he is not James Bond or Ethan Hunt, thus trained for action. Think more John McClane or Indiana Jones – spirited, gutsy and resourceful who, to paraphrase Indy, is just making it up as he goes along. The action is adrenalin-pumping and slick. Shot on a huge number of locations, Nolfi crams in a wealth of NYC along the way.

John Slattery (Mad Men’s Roger Sterling) is well cast as an unfeeling Bureau member. Terence Stamp plays an even colder fish and has some great dialogue to play around with in that wonderful voice of his. The writing, I should add, is skilful and smart. This is entertaining, blockbuster cinema but written for grown-ups.

We Need to Talk About Kevin

****

Lynne Ramsay’s adaptation of Lionel Shriver’s novel is so good it comes heartily endorsed by the author herself. (NB: This does not happen a lot.)

The eponymous Kevin is a problem from the start. As a baby he screams relentlessly, as a toddler he barely speaks and, disturbingly, he is impossible to toilet train. His mother Eva (Tilda Swinton) is unable to develop any bonds with him. The child’s pushing her away develops into mental torture. And he relishes it. She does have issues too. An intrepid world traveller she does not entirely suit the role of suburban housewife and mother. Kevin’s easygoing father, Franklin (John C Reilly) has no such problems and Kevin turns him against her. As a teenager his behaviour worsens with increasingly dire consequences. This downward spiral culminates in a staggering act of violence at his high school. Subsequently, the fallout from Kevin’s actions introduces Eva to a whole new world of pain.

This is, essentially, more Eva’s film than it is Kevin’s. Swinton is compelling as the tormented mother. Acting as our tour guide through the dark side of family life she doesn’t make her character entirely sympathetic. This gives some credence as to where exactly Kevin gets *it* from. Ezra Miller is unnervingly good as the teenage Kevin. There are two younger child actors who also play him - one as a toddler and one six-eight years – who are also quite brilliant. All three performances help build the character of a fantastically unlikeable child. Initially, the film is an all-out assault on the senses. Jumping wildly around different timelines and with potent-yet-unexplained imagery, it’s almost too much. It brings to mind Nicolas Roeg at his most chaotic. Thankfully it levels out and, as the film progresses, becomes a little more conventional. Still, this film pushes boundaries. However, please don’t be put off. It also possesses a lot of humour and is an immersive watch. Disturbing viewing it may be, but when a story is relatable as this – simply in terms of the “normal” setting – it will hopefully encourage audiences to count their blessings.

It’s a very sad situation when a director fabulously talented as Lynne Ramsay has taken nine years (since her last feature Morvern Callar) to get something made. Interestingly, although the setting is America the film is a British production – from Forward Films and the BBC, with a little help from the UK Film Council (R.I.P.). Although the film has been snubbed by the Oscars it is up for three BAFTAs – Outsanding British Film, Best Director, Best Actress – and I wish those nominees the best of luck on Sunday February 12^th.

Goon

*** 

Amongst the drunkenness, insults, violence (and almost drowning in the testosterone) a sweet little film is here to be found. But you need to look for it. And have a healthy appreciation of and/or tolerance to all of the above. This is a significant cut above your average gross-out frat boy shenanigans. It is a strangely affecting story, not just one on which to pin a series of gags. But let’s not get carried away. It’s a film about an ice hockey player hired to brutalise his opponents.

‘Goon’ is an unofficial ice hockey term for the role of enforcer - the muscle there to protect the talent. Doug Glatt (Seann William Scott) is a bouncer who finds his true calling doing just that. One night at a minor league hockey match in Massachusetts he takes umbrage to homophobic comments made by a player and soundly beats him in the stands. He makes such an impression that he is hired, for his talents, by the local coach. His adherence to violence is such a big hit with the bloodthirsty crowds that he is soon promoted to a (marginally) bigger league team in Canada. Armed with just his fists and a dangerously-low IQ, Doug relishes his role of protector and helps the struggling team.

Doug is unfathomably stupid and Scott underplays it well. He is often incapable of finishing a sentence and this kind of scrappy, unpolished awkwardness makes the film quite endearing. The scraps are bloody and graphic and there is good tension created out on the ice. Its obvious relation is 1977‘s Slap Shot but I think this is actually a better film. Proudly sporting the number 69 on his back, Doug is a whole lot funnier.

Love interest is supplied by Alison Pill – a refreshingly real young woman and a quirky talent. She and Scott achieve some genuine chemistry with neither punching above their weight. Notable mention to Kim Coates, native Canuck and a face you might know for always playing a slimebag. As the Highlanders’ coach he gives good sleaze. Liev Schreiber is an intimidating physical presence as Doug’s nemesis, veteran tough guy Ross Rhea. But I must say Jay Baruchel (also writer/producer) has perhaps a little more screen time than he should have. It doesn’t surprise me that Evan Goldberg is one of the scribes behind this - he also transcended the usual genre trappings with Superbad. And I sincerely look forward to director Michael Dowse’s next project.