Chris At The Pictures

Lou Bloom (Jake Gyllenhaal) is a nobody driven to steal chain-link fences, manhole covers and other spare parts for petty cash in L.A. when he discovers the underground world of crime journalism. With the aid of a TV-news show-runner (Rene Russo), Lou becomes entangled with the police and innocent bystanders as he slowly but surely crosses the line between observer and participant.

Nightcrawler is one of those movies that I just knew I was going to like from the very first frames: a slow montage of shots depicting L.A. in the depths of night, the pale moon standing sentinel in the sky as the city lights blaze and the haunting, melodical score kicks in. This initial treat was a combination of skill provided by cinematographer Robert Elswit (who has proven many times in the past that he can shoot the night brilliantly) and composer James Newton Howard, who has had very few memorable scores since his collaboration with Dark Knight composer Hans Zimmer came to an end but is finally given his time to shine.

To begin with an appraisal of the framing and music might seem to suggest that perhaps what followed was not up to scratch, which could not be further from the truth: Gyllenhaal isn’t just playing a character, he is the character, transforming into Lou Bloom, who is perhaps best described thusly: you take the geeky, apathetic mannerisms of Jesse Eisenberg in The Social Network, melded with the implacable eyes of Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal Lecter and add an over-zealous helping of hair-grease.

Rene Russo is also on top form as domineering news-runner Nina, adding further fuel to the fire as Bloom feverishly participates in his own warped version of the American Dream. Four Lion’s Riz Ahmed also makes an appearance as the street-wise opportunist employed as Bloom’s navigator, and, while certainly capable, feels brought in purely to state the obvious to Bloom’s face, right up until a crucial moment in the plot which I can’t explain due to spoilers but which I’d love to talk about because it’s quite cleverly executed.

Much like the news footage central to the premise, the film leaves very little to the imagination, and the graphic detail of the crimes helps sell the utter depravity of the lead character, willing to shoot anything for a quick buck. While some may see this as exploitative and hypocritical – and the film as a whole is one or two incidents too long – that refusal to look away is also central to one of the more tense set pieces. In a time when high-octane car chases, it’s wonderfully exciting to encounter a film which builds and builds before throwing the audience into the hot seat of a genuinely thrilling chase that resulted in sincere seat-gripping amongst the audience.

For first-time director (and acclaimed writer) Dan Gilroy, Nightcrawler is a considerable achievement, a no-holds-barred indictment of amateur video culture with a unique and mesmerising performance at the centre. This is Gyllenhaal’s finest hour since Donnie Darko, without a shadow of a doubt.

The year is 1984. The Thatcher government is in power, and the miners’ strike is in full swing. A group of Lesbian and Gay activists see that they share common ground with the oppressed miners and take it upon themselves to join the cause of a small mining town in Wales, despite fierce opposition and prejudice from within their own ranks and those of the miners respectively. This is the story of Pride, a comedy drama told primarily through the eyes of Joe (George MacKay), who joins LGSM (Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners) unbeknownst to his firmly right-wing parents.

The real key to Pride is the simply wonderful performances from everyone involved. The cast is star-studded and bursting with a selection of characters that always have enough screen-time to feel well-rounded without getting in the way of each other. While George MacKay as Joe may be the central character, through whom the audience is dealt the greatest emotion, the beating heart of the film is Bill Nighy as Cliff, leader of the Welsh miners. Indeed one of the more enduring highlights is a very simple scene between Nighy and Imelda Staunton, in which very little is spoken aloud but everything that needs to be said is poured into the frame.

The film wears its politics proudly on flags and banners probably visible from space, and while it may appear that the antagonists are painted as mean or cruel, sadly one cannot escape the fact that these are real people that really did say those things. The film is not itself condemning them deliberately: through their own lips and actions are they condemned.  Though it may be assumed that a leaning towards the left may help in one’s enjoyment, I’d argue that anyone with a beating heart and soul can find something or someone to root for, be it LGSM or the miners or (hopefully) both.

While the trailers and poster campaign may lead some to believe that the story may perhaps soft-pedal the darker elements, this is clearly not the case, because you will find yourself crying as well as laughing. There is no way that this story cannot be told by glossing over when things went wrong or when horrific blows are struck, and the film does its utmost to avoid painting everything with a saccharine sheen that presides over far too many contemporary comedies. While sumptuously shot, neither the frame or those within it are clean-cut or blessed with perfect make-up and physique at all times.

An essential selection of 80’s music featuring Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Bronski Beat, Dead or Alive and many others also elevates the soundtrack above the usual ‘some songs the director thought sounded good’ fare. It does everything to enhance the feel of the period (notably when the characters find themselves deep in the neon-veined London gay bars) and supercharge the feel-good powerhouse that burns at the centre of the film, hopefully leaving you with a beaming smile that threatens to split your face in half.

Pride is, quite simply, a joy to behold; a film that brings an important story to an entire generation who will know little to nothing about it, whilst shedding new light on the events for those that dismissed it the first time round. It is imbued with the spirit of love and freedom, asking the viewer to root for the side of good: it is the noblest form that cinema can take.

5 stars

The central performance from Philip Seymour Hoffman is staggering, a rare case of an actor totally owning the screen. Critics and audiences speak constantly of an actor appearing to be ‘world-weary’, but few ever live up to that. Not so with Hoffman. With a cigarette forever dangling from his lips and a hipflask near to hand, his bedraggled and unshaven form is a weighty presence that cannot fail to draw the eye. As upsetting as it may be to admit, Hoffman’s internal, off-screen problems appear only to enhance his performance.

Though they may pale slightly in comparison to the leading powerhouse, the supporting cast are still watchable. Willem Dafoe takes a break from villainous caricatures and is all the better for it as a put-upon businessman and Grigoriy Bobrygin is utterly believable as the wayward Islamist lost not only in a foreign land but also internally. It’s good to see Rachel McAdams back in a major supporting role, although it is a shame to see the talented Daniel Brühl relegated to little more than a background appearance. All cast members who are required to don a German accent manage to keep it mostly in check, though I can’t speak for the accuracy of those which are Hamburg-specific.

The plot unfolds slowly and deliberately, appearing at first to be heading in one direction but then taking a wild yet usually subtly executed turn. Unlike the previous Le Carré adaptation Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, where everything is in the smallest of details (a raised eyebrow, a nervous glance), this film wears its schemes and double-crosses with sour grimaces or frustrated swearing. The technological element also feels very contemporary, hidden cameras and surveillance vans taking the place of bugged lamps or hidden envelopes.

The functional cinematography is pitched just right; the steel and concrete architecture and the iron-grey skies of Hamburg a perfect match for the unfeeling, morally grey area that Bachmann and his associates inhabit. This is not a film about heroes and villains, but about those in-between, struggling to decide between the lesser of many evils and attempting compromise despite less than favourable results, results which more often than not are frustrating and ultimately unfair.

A Most Wanted Man is a contemporary war-on-terror thriller that, despite its pulpy origins, is a story entirely owned not by the director or the writer, but Philip Seymour Hoffman. As a swansong to a remarkable film career – and indeed a troubled life – I cannot imagine anything better suited: it’s dark, bitter, brooding and powerful.

4.5 stars

Released in 1974 but set 100 years previously, Mel Brooks Western-comedy Blazing Saddles holds many accolades, including three academy awards, a place on four of the AFI’s prestigious ‘Top 100’ lists, but most notably it was the first major studio picture to contain a fart joke (seriously, look it up). And if that isn’t enough to catch your attention, then there’s really no hope for you. So don your cowboy hats, load your six-shooters and whoopee cushions to revisit a comedy classic.

The film tells the story of Bart (Cleavon Little), a black railroad worker who is employed by Baron Hedley Lamarr (Harvey Korman) as the new sheriff of Rock Ridge in order to scare off the townsfolk so the Baron can purchase the land. However, upon arriving in the town, the sheriff quickly proves his value to the townspeople and they begin to rally behind him and his partner Jim (Gene Wilder).

Little is likeable and charming in his role, bouncing off Wilder well, just managing not to be overshadowed by him through a selection of key scenes, the majority of which I’d rather not give away if anyone reading has never seen it (shame on you), save for a moment in which he turns to a pair of Klu Klux Klan members and exclaims ‘Where the white women at?’. Harvey Korman as Lamarr steals the show whenever he’s on screen, alternating between tight-lipped sarcasm and pants-on-head insane whilst perfectly offset by Slim Pickens as Taggart, his slow-minded crony. Mel Brooks makes an appearance as Governor Lepetomane and is instantly hilarious. There is just something about that cross-eyed, cigar smoking face gawping towards the camera that will never be anything but funny.

Where the comedy is concerned, there are great swathes of gags in all varieties, from simple visual jokes (a hangman placing the noose around a horse and the man sat upon it), to surrealist comedy (a pair of World War 2-era German soldiers making friends with the outlaws), to downright toilet humour (the famous beans around the campfire scene). The jokes are plentiful pushing the boundaries of what was deemed ‘good taste’ back in the 70’s, but they don’t all rush over themselves in an attempt to get quick laughs like many comedies nowadays. By placing an in-joke here, a farting scene there, then going completely for broke in the finale, it is clearly written by people who understand that the essence of comedy is timing, and Blazing Saddles has that down to a tee. Even the social/racial satire (though not always particularly subtle) is well-done, and at its heart is the idea of securing equality in a mainstream movie as a positive force in the mind of American audiences who – merely ten years previous – would have balked at the idea of a black protagonist.

One of the more striking things one notices upon re-watching the film is that, despite its comedic nature, it is still made like a traditional Western. The cinematography echoes the camerawork of classic movies such as The Searchers and the musical score carries a strain of epic motifs as well as the more traditional harmonica pieces one would come to expect. It might be conformity to stereotype but it helps sell the setting of the movie and therefore serves only to increase the audience’s bewilderment when the more surreal elements come into play (and trust me, when it gets to that point you’ll wonder if you've accidentally taped another movie over the film).

With its mixture of bizarre anachronisms, racial satire and toilet humour all played with a – nearly – straight face, Blazing Saddles is a remarkable comedy that has stood the test of time, and whose DNA can be clearly seen in everything from the Monty Python movies to Family Guy (Seth MacFarlane appears to have built up most of his back catalogue simply by ‘referencing’ or downright ripping-off the comedies of the 70’s and 80’s). Everything that A Million Ways to Die in the West does spectacularly wrong, Blazing Saddles did (albeit haphazardly) side-splittingly better forty years before.