Here's a couple of short reviews of three great films I've seen recently. Not meaning to be popularist (lord knows I love a good arthouse viewing) but all of these films are box office big-hitters and in the running for awards next year. Let's just hope that someone at the studios reads this and sends a fucking great bundle of promotional cash as a thank you. Likely, hmmmmm...
BLACK SWAN is Darren Aronofsky's INSANE ballet-based melodrama that is part erotic thriller, part psychological horror, part shape-shifting monster-movie and delivers an over-whelming amount of "what-the-fudge?!" in it's two hour story. Natalie Portman is Nina, a ballerina whose dedication and determination to fulfil her dreams drives her to the edge of physical, emotional and mental destruction when the prised lead role becomes available in a new production of Swan Lake.
Very dark, and racy in every sense of the word, Aronofsky's latest is a blur of genres and thrillingly over the top. Though parts of the film seem a little cliched (the outright girliness of Nina's pink wardrobe and twee music box do grate at times, and the over-bearing mother is almost too controlling to be true), the indulgence is turned up high enough for viewers to relish in them rather than reject them, and they help bring stability to the moments of story-telling lunacy.
Two enjoyably sinister support turns from Mila Kunis and Vincent Cassel as Nina's competition and director keep the tension high and the plot ticking over at a rate of knots, but the story is driven by Portman's brilliantly neurotic, unhinged descent into madness as she gradually transforms, both symbolically and literally, into the deadly black swan. Her performance, along with Aronofsky's visual flair and dramatic urgency, are the film's shining glory. Bravo, and a standing ovation.
Much has been said in praise of THE KINGS SPEECH already, so there is little to add in the way of gush.
The film, classically structured and simple in narrative, tells two stories: one of George VI's rise to the throne, after his father's death and his older brother's disassociation of church and crown in favour of marriage to Wallis Simpson, and the other of a nervous stammerer named Albert (only his friends and family call him Bertie) finding friendship, compassion and relative success in his Australian speech therapist, Lionel Logue. What is exciting about this film, and what makes it so engaging and dramatic, is that George VI and Albert are one and the same, in so much as George, before taking the throne, was merely Albert the prince.
With outstanding performances from the entire cast, but especially from Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush as Bertie and Logue respectively, Tom Hooper's classically told but expertly executed film (the cinematography from Danny Cohen is especially good, a real triumph) brings an era and a friendship to life in wonderfully affectionate detail. There are no explosive set pieces, but there are enough moments of wit, charm, eloquence (literally) and conflict to satisfy even the most hardened hater of British period drama (which would include myself). A thoroughly brilliant Oscar contender that is beautifully crafted in every possible sense.
Danny Boyle has had a pretty good couple of years, I think we'd all agree. Oscars, box office success, lifetime achievement awards, it's all come flooding in, and it is not in Boyle's nature to rest on his laurels. So, while the iron is hot, the director has pounced on the opportunity to take studio money and tell a story about one man trapped in a Utah canyon, his right arm trapped against a wall by a falling boulder, and who spends a certain amount of time, probably 127 HOURS or so come to think of it, struggling against dehydration, agony, hallucination and isolation in an attempt to free himself. Eventually his only option is a gruesome one, and the resulting act of self-mutilation is thoroughly uncomfortable but never, as some weaklings who have been toppling over like a pissed up Gillian McKeith in American cinema aisles would have you believe, un-watchable.
The camera work, and the story's pace, is predictably frenetic as Boyle, writer Simon Beaufoy and cinematographer Enrique Chediak force drama from what is essentially the story of one man in the same place for a long time. Flashbacks and hallucinations bring the personal history of true life victim Aron Ralston, with all its emotional baggage, lost loves and regrets, to the forefront to try and paint a picture of the man behind the penknife, and with relative success (though at times the soft-edged glow of Ralston's past can tire and seem somewhat heavy-handed), but it is James Franco in the lead role that holds the audience's attention, and visualises superbly the extremes of Ralston's emotional and physical desperation. It is another fantastic turn from a universally well-received, respected, jealousy-inducing young star, and one which will hopefully encourage more actors, film-makers and producers to take risks on difficult stories.
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