I hate not being able to update as often as I’d like to. Every so often, I post a review round-up on what I’ve seen on DVD recently. DVD has been my saving grace when I’m unable to steal away three hours (driving to the cinema, sitting through trailers, queuing to buy a ticket, actually watching an average-length film) to see a movie, and I’ve caught up on a few fan favourites the past while.
MMA, or mixed martial arts, has been gaining popular appeal over the past years in South Africa (where etv broadcasts EFC events), and it’s also a prominent source of income and entertainment in parts of India. Many studios are capitalising on MMA’s popularity, delivering low budget, story-less movies where underdogs fight champions for some major reward. Gavin O’Connor’s Warrior is the polar opposite of all those movies and their cheap thrills, an emotionally involving family drama meshed with the combat film. It emphasises notions of honour and integrity as present in not only physical combat but also domestic life.
Tommy Conlon (Tom Hardy) unexpectedly shows up at the home of his father, Paddy (grizzled Nick Nolte). It is clear that there is bad blood between them; Paddy is a recovering alcoholic, and Tommy has little faith in his father’s sobriety. Yet he wants Paddy to train him for the major Sparta MMA tournament with $5 million as the grand prize.
Meanwhile, Brendan Conlon (Joel Edgerton) and his wife (Jennifer Morrison) are close to foreclose on their home. Brendan’s teaching job doesn’t pay enough to cover the house payments, especially since they had some major medical expenses as their son fell ill. While he left that life behind some time ago, Brendan rejoins a local gym in preparation for the Sparta tournament that could help him to save his family. It is a narrative inevitability that, somewhere, Tommy’s path will cross with Brendan’s.
Warrior is an accomplished companion piece to The Fighter, covering similar thematic ground and with striking scenes of physical combat. It has some issues though; for example, the film fails to tie up a loose end regarding Tommy's cause for fighting. In addition, Nick Nolte’s Oscar nominated performance is highly overrated. This is the type of character Nolte plays in his sleep; asking him to play the recovering alcoholic absent father is like asking Denzel Washington to play a calm and reluctant African American action hero. Nolte can be a superb actor; his 1997 feature for Paul Schrader, the emotionally shredding Affliction, not only showcases Nolte at his career best, it is one of the best male performance I’ve ever seen.
Speaking of Denzel Washington: Safe House is an utterly conventional, derivative seen-it-all-before piece of action in need of well written characters, a story and some emotional hooks to anchor all the kinetic energy. Washington is Tobin Frost, a much wanted black market information dealer in possession of some very important intel, who is apprehended and placed in custody in a CIA safe house in Cape Town, where a rather bored Matt Weston (Ryan Reynolds) runs the show (which means, he checks the computers now and again and bounces a ball against a wall).
Some bad guys quickly discover where Frost is being held and before you can say “Table Mountain” Frost and Weston are thrown together in a situation neither is adequately prepared for. Director Daniel Espinosa keeps the action moving at a rather frenetic pace and only interrupts it with tedious scenes with Weston’s girlfriend (Nora Arnezeder). Capetonians can play “Name that Landmark” while watching but everyone who’s seen some contemporary action films will find themselves yawning as Safe House goes through its paces, playing it very safe indeed. Not even that great character actor Brendan Gleeson or Vera Farmiga’s hypnotic eyes can redeem this inconsequential gun-fluff.
Not since Shaun of the Dead has a Britflick with genre roots shaken up geek culture as writer-director Joe Cornish’s Attack the Block has. In this class-conscious alien invasion film, a bunch of youthful petty criminals lead by the assured Moses (John Boyega) find themselves in a perilous situation as alien creatures attack their working class housing estate in South London. Realising that their homes are all they’ve got, the boys stand together to defeat the extraterrestrial foe.
Attack the Block is a well paced genre film with an unexpected subversive edge - and brutality! - that is somewhat kneecapped by a familiar ending and some near impenetrable slang (I had to watch the film with the subtitles on so as to make sense of the constant "bloods", "fams" and "truths"). While it’s not quite the rejuvenating and original work many claim it to be, it is certainly required viewing for genre aficionados. Nick Frost's appearance as Ron is a particular treat, and the film generally succeeds where Scott Pilgrim vs The World failed: to functionally integrate a variety of pop culture references and appreciations that strengthen its own existence, not point to its artificiality.
Another genre film that works very well for most part until it drowns in a completely misguided ending is the mockumentary demonic possession tale The Last Exorcism, produced by Hostel’s Eli Roth and directed by Daniel Stamm. The film stars Patrick Fabian as a charismatic pastor, Cotton Marcus, who has preached the gospel from a young age. This means that he has spent years developing his craft and perfecting the tricks of the trade, knowing exactly what is expected of him when he is asked to conduct an exorcism for a family in Ivanwood A documentary film crew accompanies him on his mission, which gives the film a legitimate reason to have a home-made, shaky look.
The Last Exorcism is successful at slowly suggesting that the possession case Marcus is dealing with in this instance is the real thing, only to show us something that in turn undercuts that impression and leaves us with a tantalising ambiguity, similar to how The Exorcism of Emily Rose drew viewers into its story. As good as the first half the film is, the second half falters; firstly, it doesn’t heighten its pace or sense of urgency as much as it could, and secondly, the ending is so bizarrely out of place it’s as if it were spliced in from a different film. Here the weakness of the mockumentary horror is laid bare, demonstrating that it is a format that can only accommodate so much ‘spontaneous’ material in its specific limitations.
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