Chris At The Pictures

For the longest time I debated whether to even try reviewing this film. When you’ve been anticipating something for over ten years, a certain level of personal bias is to be expected. For me (and obviously, many others around the world) this is not a film, it is an event.

Everyone who knows me knows how much I love Star Wars. It doesn’t matter if you’re a close friend, one of my Twitter followers or someone I once drunkenly encountered at a house party; it’s one of the first things anyone learns about me. Some might think that’s a bit sad, but it doesn’t bother me. Better notorious by my enthusiasm for one thing than hatred for another, right?

I’ve loved these movies for longer than I can remember, and have bored friends and family to death talking about them ever since. Heck, I even wrote my own version of Episode VII back in 2005 at age ten during my post Revenge of the Sith sugar low, convinced that no-one else ever would. This conviction remained for the next seven years through endless rumours, supposed treatment leaks, faked trailers, the works…right up until the 2012 announcement that Disney had taken control of Lucasfilm and that production on the seventh chapter was underway.

Of course, I’ve been embarrassingly excited. Of course, I’ve counted down the years, months, days, hours, even minutes until the film reached release…but not without a very specific reservation. Being a fan of all six films is not something the internet hive-mind approves of: if you see an article about The Force Awakens that doesn’t contain an opening line about how ‘let-down’ or ‘disappointed’ everyone was with the prequels, you treasure it.

Sadly, this assumed ‘truth’ that everyone dislikes a sizeable chunk of the established canon appeared to have leaked into the production: all the talk of returning to the spirit of the original trilogy, to an old-school way of film-making reeked of an attempt to appease forty year-old fanboys, and a denial of half the stories which I loved growing up. As selfish and hypocritical as it sounds, I was worried that this film was not made for me.

Even as I took a seat in the crowded IMAX screen, my best friend at my side and a palpable aura of excitement filling the room, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something would go wrong: not in the modern multiplex sense of ‘What if the image is out of focus?’, but something closer to the fear of having your heart broken by someone you love.

To cut a long story short: I had a bad feeling about this.

To cut it shorter: I was wrong.

I’m not in the right frame of mind to write a more coherent review until a second viewing, because trying to piece together my thoughts right now is like trying to keep water from slipping through my fingers.

This is a superb piece of edutainment from director F. Gary Gray, taking its name from the debut album of NWA. It charts the rise of the group through the late 1980’s to early 90’s, following Ice Cube, Dr. Dre, Eazy-E and more from the mean streets of their hometown to world-conquering success. I should mention that watching this movie for me was like diving into the deep end: I knew nothing about the NWA, Compton, the Rodney King riots or even rap music as an art form. It is to the film’s very great credit that I found it as engaging, entertaining and tense as any mega-blockbuster action drama.

Straight Outta Compton really comes into its own in the performance department. The decision to cast O’Shea Jackson Jr. (the son of Ice Cube) as a younger version of his own father is an unexpected masterstroke: not only is the physical resemblance uncanny, but Jackson Jr. carries off the way Cube holds himself and even his facial tics to boot. Jason Mitchell also turns in a very fine performance as the young Eazy-E, drawing out the emotional core of the film while his counterparts (Corey Hawkins as Dr. Dre, Aldis Hodge as MC Ren, etc.) form a ring of confidence and energy around him. Paul Giamatti also appears to be having more than his fair share of fun as silly-wigged manager Jerry Heller, doing a lot of shouting and spitting in a quite diverting manner.

Whilst it’s true that a film like this is destined by default to re-tread the usual rock biopic beats, Compton differentiates itself by having the ‘behind-the-scenes’ moments (usually all too brief in its contemporaries) directed with as much – if not more – vigour, steadiness and attention to detail as the stage-shaking live shows and street-bound brawls: there’s sincerity behind the swagger.

Subtlety and delicacy aren’t always the guiding light, however. Wolf of Wall Street-level displays of excess run rampant throughout the second half, lending the length of the movie a somewhat bloated feeling. NWA’s success isn’t necessarily wearing to watch, rather the fact that I’m more interested to see the how and the why than the what. Problems also arise when the film avoids tackling the well-documented misogyny intertwined within NWA’s rise to power. A true-to-life story that’s prepared to address violence and political unrest shouldn’t be afraid to do the same with sexism.

Perhaps the film’s greatest feat (especially for those of us with little to no knowledge of the story, the debut album, or rap music itself) is reminding us that a genre of music stereotyped as merely provocative and thuggish is rooted in honesty and emotion. But for a few miniscule missteps, Straight Outta Compton’s depiction of NWA is as uncensored, urgent, and powerful as their music.

Pompeii is the latest big-budget disaster movie to grace cinema screens, and judging by the trailers and promotion you’d find it easy to simply dismiss it as ‘Titanic with a volcano’. Directed by Paul W.S Anderson, the film stars Kit Harington (Game of Thrones) as Milo – a gladiator with a grudge against the Romans who slew his family – and follows the young barbarian as he attempts to overcome his situation and save his newfound love Cassia (Emily Browning) from a bleak future of servitude and – once the volcanic calamity befalls the town – a fiery death.

The film’s greatest strength is its epic visuals, which are a terrific blend of CGI and practical sets, costumes and effects, creating a very impressive recreation of the Roman Empire in its prime, long sweeping vistas of the coastal town and Vesuvius lending a great sense of scale. This is continued when the volcano explodes, huge swathes of fiery rocks (technically not historically accurate) soaring across the sky and reducing buildings and entire stadiums to burning wreckage. An epic musical score supplied by Clinton Shorter and thunderous sound design are brought in to add finishing touches to a truly extraordinary spectacle. Even the 3D – though rather un-noticeable in the earlier stages of the film – adds a nice sense of dimensionality to the clouds of ash swirling about and flaming rocks swooping towards the camera.

As far as the character drama is concerned, it’s quite surprising to see a film from Anderson that at least takes its time to try and develop back-stories and relationships between characters rather than rush straight into the explosions. They may not be the best rounded characters and the attempt to make the audience sympathise with them is not entirely successful, but there’s plenty here to enjoy. 

Kit Harington does his best with a rather flimsy script, sporting a believable air of someone who has been forged by slavery and battle, whilst Kiefer Sutherland is huge fun in full-on, high-camp mode as a leering Roman senator. Jared Harris also fares well as Cassia’s rebellious father, but is sadly criminally underused, and Carrie-Anne Moss (despite being touted as one of the leads by most of the film’s promotion) is given very little to do and feels like set dressing rather than a fully-developed character. The love story between Milo and Cassia (portrayed perfectly amiably by Browning as an oppressed but resourceful young woman) is rushed and under-developed, but reaches a rather surprising and quite freshly daring conclusion as the film reaches its climax. 

Pompeii may not be the most character-driven disaster epic, but at a nippy 100 minutes it doesn’t overstay its welcome, sports blistering visuals and a good, old-fashioned popcorn spectacle sensibility that is certainly a lot more enjoyable than Anderson’s more recent turkeys. It’s not quite Event Horizon, but heck, I’ll take Pompeii over another Resident Evil sequel any day. 

3 Stars