Film Review: Annie

‪ Annie. Rated PG. 118 minutes. Directed by Will Gluck. Screenplay by Will Gluck and Aline Brosh McKenna.

Verdict: In a word, dreadful.

What might have been a landmark reimagining of a popular comic strip heroine turned Musical Theatre Star, ends up being a film of such gob-smacking mediocrity that it becomes almost impossible to keep watching. With all the musicality of a burst fire hydrant, it is impossible to comprehend how the filmmakers responsible have got it so completely wrong.
 
The added cruelty inflicted on us here, is that we really want it to work. The evergreen musical (music by Charles Strouse, lyrics by Martin Charnin, and book by Thomas Meehan) has been enshrined in musical theatre history, with its signature tune ‘Tomorrow’ an instantly recognisable classic. Regrettably, like the rest of the fabulous score that has been slaughtered beyond recognition, it fails to make even the slightest impact – which can only be described as bizarre.

Quvenzhané Wallis, who became the youngest actress to receive a Best Actress Oscar® nomination for her performance in Beasts of the Southern Wild, is wonderful as Annie. And watching the rest of the film fall apart around her only makes the experience of watching it even more excruciating.

Jamie Foxx has a genuine go at the reimagined Oliver Warbucks character, Will Stacks, a mobile phone billionaire. Foxx is the only other cast member who can sing and kind of dance, but the major problem is that he obviously feels incredibly uncomfortable doing so in front of a movie camera. The hopelessly miscast Rose Byrne (as Stacks’ Personal Assistant, Grace) only proves that she can neither sing nor dance, which is awkward in a musical. But nothing will prepare you for the fear and panic that infuses Cameron Diaz’s unwatchable turn as Miss Hannigan.

But whatever the extent of the unjustifiable liberties that have been taken, the two-hour running time can only be described as beyond endurance.

This review was commissioned by the West Australian Newspaper Group.

Film Review: Paddington

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Paddington. Rated G. 95 minutes. Directed by Paul King. Screenplay by Paul King and Hamish McColl. 

Verdict: A near-perfect big screen debut for our refugee from Peru, Paddington Bear. 

As you luxuriate in the company of the ever polite but calamity-prone Paddington Bear (voiced by a perfectly British Ben Wishaw), you may find yourself wondering why he hasn’t managed to find his way onto the big screen before this marvellously imaginative incarnation. 

Since Michael Bond’s A Bear Called Paddington was first published in 1958, his creator has been reluctant to sell the film rights to anyone who might not meet his exacting standards and expectations for what the end result might end up looking like.

It is fascinating to consider just how much a film of its time Paddington’s debut adventure is. When an earthquake destroys the home he shares with his Uncle and Aunty in the jungles of Peru, his Aunt stows him away on board a ship bound for London. Arriving at Paddington Station as a refugee from a far away land, our homeless bear is welcomed by the Brown family – Henry (Hugh Bonneville), Mary (Sally Hawkins) and their children Judy (Madeleine Harris) and Jonathan (Samuel Joslin). But when an evil taxidermist, played with vigour by a blonde-bob-wearing Nicole Kidman, wants to have this particular bear in her museum’s collection, the race is on to save Paddington from being well and truly stuffed.

In King (The Mighty Boosh), and the picture-book perfect production design from Gary Williamson, Paddington finds himself in splendid company. The creative excellence on show rewards close attention, especially the painted tree mural that adorns the hallway of the Brown's family home.

And if the shrieks and squeals of delight from the youngest (and the not so young) audience members are anything to go by, then the little, lost bear from ‘Darkest Peru’ has found himself a most suitable new home.

This review was commissioned by the West Australian Newspaper Group.

Film Review: Exodus: Gods and Kings

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Exodus: Gods and Kings. Rated M (mature themes and violence). 150 minutes. Directed by Ridley Scott. Screenplay by Adam Cooper, Bill Collage, Jeffrey Caine and Steven Zaillian.

Verdict: A sumptuous visual feast that brings nothing new to the age-old contest.

Since time immemorial, The Bible’s New and Old Testaments have provided film-makers with a rich tapestry of spiritually-charged adventures on a grand scale. It was the legendary Cecil B DeMille who first filmed the story of Moses and The Ten Commandments in 1923 as a silent epic, before revisiting the story in 1956 with Charlton Heston as Moses and Yul Brynner as his ‘brother’, Pharaoh Rameses of Egypt.

For his lavish account of the epic, faith-based contest between Moses (Christian Bale), Rameses (Joel Edgerton) and God’s messenger, Malak (11-year-old Isaac Andrews), Scott (Alien, Blade Runner, Gladiator, Black Hawk Down, Prometheus) has created a sumptuous visual feast that is simply breath-taking in its scale of cinematic wonder. The work of his Prometheus collaborators – cinematographer Dariusz Wolski, Production Designer Arthur Max, and Costume Designer Janty Yates – is nothing less than awe-inspiring. And while everyone wears far too much make-up (especially eye-liner), Exodus never looks less than magnificent.

The screenplay, though, doesn’t do anyone any favours, with Edgerton’s Rameses reduced to a thinly-drawn, snappy, inarticulate and petulant man/child. Bale gradually rises to meet the demands of his role as the great prophet and saviour of the enslaved Israelites, and his realisation that his God has not abandoned him, just as The Red Sea begins to part, is about as good as the acting gets.

What remains troubling about the experience of this film is how Scott fails to bring any new insights about this well-known battle of faith and self-belief into consideration. At a time where faith of any description is increasingly difficult to maintain, the opportunity to challenge us about the role faith might play in our lives is wasted completely. Faith, after all, is about how we feel, not how we look.

This review was commissioned by the West Australian Newspaper Group.

Film Review: My Old Lady

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My Old Lady. Rated M (mature themes). 107 minutes. Written and directed by Israel Horovitz.

Verdict: Three great performances help this turgid tale of tormented family secrets over the line.

Making his feature film directorial debut at the grand age of 75 makes celebrated playwright Israel Horovitz a unique creative individual. For the occasion, he has adapted his stage play for the screen and cast three superb leading actors – Maggie Smith, Kevin Kline and Kristin Scott Thomas – in what is essentially a three-hander about secrets that haunt the lives of the main characters.

Mathias’ (Kline) life is a complete failure. He is a broke, recovering alcoholic with three unpublished novels and three failed marriages to match. When his estranged father dies, Mathias inherits an apartment in Paris. He travels to France immediately to arrange for the apartment to be sold, only to discover that it is let to Mathilde (Smith) under the ‘viager’ system, where tenants can stay in their apartments ‘for life’. When Mathias meets Mathilde’s adult daughter Chloé (Scott Thomas), sparks fly as the damaged pair battle to defend their right of ownership over the apartment.

Lovers of Paris and human drama, with a romantic flourish, will adore this film. Horovitz certainly lays the emotional baggage on with a trowel, but his cast respond brilliantly under his incisive direction that belies his complete lack of experience as a film director. It is impossible to take your eyes off the irrepressible Smith, who is currently winning new legions of fans as a result of her work in Downtown Abbey.

Kline, who made a name for himself with breakout turns in The Big Chill (1983) and A Fish Called Wanda (1988), has been absent from the screen for a decade. And while the screenplay overplays its hand where his tormented past is concerned, it is an undeniable joy to watch Kline rage against the bottle, the women, and the circumstances that stand in the way of him achieving some sense of closure from what was an incredibly tragic childhood.

This review was commissioned by the West Australian Newspaper Group.