Film Review: Limitless

Limitless. Rated M (drug themes, violence, sexual references and infrequent coarse language). 105 minutes. Directed by Neil Burger. Screenplay by Leslie Dixon. Based on the novel The Dark Fields by Alan Glynn.

If you’ve ever relied on more than one good, old-fashioned pain relief tablet to get you through the tasks at hand, you’ll find much to relate to in this big, brash and brassy tale about down-on-his-luck writer Eddie Morra (Bradley Cooper) who stumbles onto a wonder-drug that catapults him to the very pinnacle of success.

The breath-draining opening credits more than successfully set the mood, the tone and the pace of all that is to follow – with Burger (The Illusionist) and cinematographer Jo Willems (30 Days of Night, Hard Candy) matching their hero’s altered state(s) of mind with an occasionally dazzling range of visual styles and technologically-inspired transformations.

Editors Tracy Adams and Naomi Geraghty (Hotel Rwanda, The Illusionist) successfully set a punishing pace early on, but as Dixon’s (Mrs Doubtfire, Overboard, Outrageous Fortune) screenplay begins to run out of puff, there is the distinct feeling that the filmmakers, equally, have run out of ideas. Unlike the brilliantly layered Inception which escorted us to the very depths of fascinating psychological and emotional conflict, Limitless ends up with chronic delusions of intrigue – failing to find its place in the reality-warping, mind-bending recesses of an intriguing mind.

Australian-born Abbie Cornish (Somersault, Candy, Bright Star) delivers a fine turn as Eddie’s ex-girlfriend Lindy, while Robert De Niro doesn’t get much of a stretch in his role as businessman Carl van Loon. Anna Friel, on the other hand, walks away with the acting honours with a neat little cameo as Eddie’s recovering drug-addicted ex-wife.

Peculiarly, once it’s all over, it’s impossible to decide precisely what the filmmakers intended to share with us regarding the ethical dilemmas associated with their particular morality tale of drug-induced excesses. And as it already limps off into the distant recesses of my memory, I can’t shake the feeling that I have just sat through a very smartly made movie about Mr Cooper’s classic matinee-movie-idol persona – with which this movie is afflicted to near-overdose levels. Problematically for all concerned, behind all the glossy surfaces there appears to be absolutely nothing of any real interest.

This review was commissioned by the Geraldton Newspaper Group.

Film Review: Battle: Los Angeles

Battle: Los Angeles. Rated M (science fiction violence and coarse language). 116 minutes. Directed by Jonathan Liebesman. Screenplay by Christopher Bertolini.

Given the recent events in Libya, Japan, Egypt, Afghanistan and Iraq, good old Hollywood, it could be argued, is going through something of an identity crisis. The after-life drama Hereafter was recently withdrawn from release in Japan because its distributors believed that the epic tsunami sequence that kicks the movie off might only add to the post-traumatic shock being experienced by Japanese audiences. There’s a short, stock, standard tsunami sequence in Battle: Los Angeles too – and the only possible reaction can be “Ya reckon?!” A month or two ago it might have been a moment of singular, freakish astonishment. Today, in any context, it’s just pointless.

Like the cinema-defying events of 9/11, our recent experiences of an angry, hostile and unstable planet are, somewhat perversely, becoming more and more like ‘watching a movie’ than going to the cinema is. The “it’s like I was watching a movie” analogy has been used quite frequently in recent times – as we struggle to comprehend the epic destruction we have all witnessed.

Enter Battle: Los Angeles – the latest invading aliens vs the might of the American Armed Forces blockbuster. Straight-up (and this movie plays it as straight up as it’s possible to), there’s nothing whatsoever wrong with this film. Liebesman (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning) and his Chainsaw Massacre cinematographer Lukas Ettlin do an admirable job of embedding us at the very heart of all the non-stop action, while Bertolini’s entirely serviceable screenplay is a perfect example of alien invasion/war movie by numbers.

The cast, lead by Aaron Eckhart (Rabbit Hole, The Dark Knight, In the Company of Men) all run around dodging bullets and bombs (well, some of them do anyway) as confidently as you might expect, and the entire 116 minutes is welded together to within an inch of its life by editor Christian Wagner (Fast & Furious). Brian Tyler’s (Fast & Furious, The Expendables) score more than adequately lends a typical militaristic flourish to the proceedings, and while the special effects are not particularly as memorable as one might have expected, they are certainly competent (in an ‘invading alien forces’ kind of way).

Ultimately, however, for this destruction-fatigued reviewer anyway, the entire experience resembled nothing more interesting or entertaining than waiting for a kettle to boil.

This review was commissioned by the Geraldton Newspaper Group.

Film Review: Conviction

Conviction. Rated M (mature themes, violence and coarse language). 124 minutes. Directed by Tony Goldwyn. Screenplay by Pamela Gray.

Defined by Julia Roberts’ Oscar-winning turn in the title role of the feisty heroine in Erin Brockovich (2000), the genre of films about determined, single-minded (and absolutely unstoppable) women taking on ‘the system’ to ensure justice is done can make for powerful and engrossing cinematic storytelling. Sally Field, too, romped home to Oscar glory with her star turn as unionist Norma Rae (1979), while Meryl Streep and Cher’s performances in Silkwood (1983) are right up there amongst the best of their respective careers.

In Conviction, Hilary Swank (Million Dollar Baby, Boys Don’t Cry) takes on the role of Betty Anne Waters who, in 1983, took on the legal system to prove that her brother Kenny (Sam Rockwell) was innocent of a murder he had spent 18 years in prison for apparently committing.

There are lots of fascinating aspects to this true story, and it is a real shame that none of them are explored in this film. If, for example, Kenny didn’t murder Katharina Brow, then who did? And what does local cop Nancy Taylor (Melissa Leo) have to hide? Instead, what we get is an incredibly ordinary ‘by-the-numbers’ telling of a fairly predictable story that, peculiarly given the talent involved, ends up feeling like a second-rate telemovie or a really long episode of CSI-Somewhere.

Swank (channelling Ms Roberts) and Rockwell (channelling Al Pacino) are, as one might imagine, perfectly fine in the lead roles, while Leo (who won this year’s Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her performance in The Fighter) works wonders with the little she gets to do. Minnie Driver has a little too much fun with her annoying, pop-up best friend ‘Abra Rice’, while Juliette Lewis sails right over the top in her cameo as one of Kenny’s ex-girlfriends.

No-one is helped by Adriano Goldman’s (City of Men) mood-less cinematography or Goldwyn’s lack of directorial ambition for Ms Gray’s (Music of the Heart) drama-free screenplay. Given the extraordinary lengths that Ms Waters went to in order to prove her brother’s innocence, one might have imagined there could have been an interesting film to come out of it all. Regrettably, that’s not the case.

This review was commissioned by the Geraldton Newspaper Group.

Film Review: The Way Back

The Way Back. Rated M (mature themes and coarse language). 133 minutes. Directed by Peter Weir. Screenplay by Peter Weir and Keith R. Clarke. Based on the novel by Slavomir Rawicz.

It’s hard to believe that it’s been eight years since Peter Weir’s last film – Master and Commander, which starred Russell Crowe and won Oscars in 2004 for Weir’s frequent collaborator, cinematographer Russell Boyd, and sound editor Richard King. What is even harder to believe is that it is 36 years since the first Weir/Boyd collaboration – 1975’s Picnic at Hanging Rock – a film that, even today, remains in a class of its own as an example of outstanding Australian cinema.

With The Way Back, Weir (The Last Wave, Gallipoli, Witness, The Mosquito Coast, Dead Poets Society, The Truman Show) returns to familiar territory – following a group of people in extraordinary circumstances (in this case, prisoners of a Soviet labour camp), taking on hostile and unfamiliar environments (a treacherous Siberia) in an attempt to regain their freedom – both physical and spiritual.

Underscored by Burkhard von Dallwitz’s (The Truman Show and TV’s Underbelly) moody original score, Boyd’s cinematography is, at times, quite astonishing in its depth and breadth, while John Stoddart’s (Fearless, The Mosquito Coast, Careful, He Might Hear You, The Getting of Wisdom) and Wendy Stites (Master and Commander) brilliant production and costume design, respectively, bring a wild and inventive theatricality to the screen that is equal to the epic visual magnificence of the film’s many challenging locations.

Jim Sturgess (Crossing Over, Fifty Dead Men Walking) is outstanding as ‘Janusz’, the young Polish political prisoner who yearns to return to his young wife in Poland, while Colin Farrell, Ed Harris, Drago Bucur, Mark Strong, Gustaf Skarsgård and Saoirse Ronan (The Lovely Bones) provide excellent support as the band of loyal followers who take Janusz’s lead in the 4,000 kilometre trek south to freedom and, hopefully, peace. Sebastian Urzendowsky’s cameo as ‘Kazik’ – a young prisoner who suffers from night-blindness – is both memorable and deeply affecting.

While the ending feels a little all too neatly sewn-up, there is no question that this is an often engrossing journey of triumph (and failure) against extreme physical, mental and emotional adversity – and a story from one of Australia’s master film-makers that is most certainly worth sharing in.

This review was commissioned by the Geraldton Newspaper Group.

Film Review: I Am Number Four

I Am Number Four. Rated M (science fiction themes and violence). 109 minutes. Directed by D. J. Caruso. Screenplay by Alfred Gough, Miles Millar and Marti Noxon. Based on the novel by Pittacus Lore (Jobie Hughes and James Frey).

After a hostile takeover of their planet by the violent Mogadorians, super-alien refugee from the planet Lorien ‘John’ (Alex Pettyfer) and his guardian ‘Henri’ (Die Hard 4’s Timothy Olyphant) are hiding on Earth. John is the fourth in a line of seven super-aliens who, it is hoped, will one day be powerful enough to reclaim Lorien from the Mogadorian invaders. But when Mogadorian warriors arrive on earth, John learns that something has gone terribly wrong – and he is next in line to be exterminated.

It can be quite a bewildering experience watching a movie only just manage to hold itself together – especially one like this, which has expert pedigree and an extremely promising set-up. That the end result is a mish-mash of the vastly superior Predator and Terminator franchises (mixed with a generous amount of Twilight-inspired lovelorn angst) can only be described as disappointing.

While Caruso (Disturbia) and cinematographer Guillermo Navarro (Pan's Labyrinth, Hellboy) certainly bring their anticipated panache to several sequences (the opening and the haunted hay-ride are two stand-outs), the end result is a derivative, dim, dark and loosely-structured effort that sci-fi devotees will more than likely find themselves laughing off the screen. Why, for example, do the fearless Mogadorian warriors who have conquered distant planets have to travel by car? Why do they have noses and gills? And what’s with the I Dream of Jeannie-inspired puffs of smoke when someone is exterminated?

Model-turned-actor Pettyfer tries incredibly hard in the leading role, but lacks the necessary emotional range to make the character (or his journey) even remotely interesting. On the other hand, Australian-born Callan McAuliffe shows real promise as ‘Sam’ – the boy who finds his missing father’s alien theories validated by John and Henri’s arrival in his hometown. Dianna Agron as John’s love-interest ‘Sarah’ easily accounts for the little she actually gets to do (consisting mostly of endlessly wondering what on earth is going on), while Australian-born Teresa Palmer absolutely steals the show with an entertainingly rough-shod turn as ‘Number 6’.

Whether the impending “I am number …” franchise gets off the ground will depend entirely on the extent to which its target audience embrace its clumsy and unoriginal pretence. Based on this Terminator-lite effort, it’s unlikely.

This review was commissioned by the Geraldton Newspaper Group.

Film Review: Hereafter

Hereafter. Rated M (mature themes and infrequent coarse language). 129 minutes. Directed by Clint Eastwood. Screenplay by Peter Morgan.

Death, and what, if anything, comes after it, has been an endless source of material for some unforgettable films – Passengers (2008), The Others (2001), The Sixth Sense (1999) and Ghost (1990), to name just four.

In Eastwood’s (Mystic River, Million Dollar Baby, Changeling, Grand Torino) contemplative drama from Morgan’s (Frost/Nixon, The Queen, The Last King of Scotland) intricate screenplay, we have a beautifully-crafted, lilting ode to lost souls – each of whom have their lives changed forever by their proximity to death.

When French television journalist ‘Marie’ (Cécile de France) survives a tsunami, her near-death experience challenges everything she ever imagined her life would be. In San Francisco, ‘George Lonegan’ (Matt Damon) is a recently-retired psychic, desperate to create a life for himself other than the one he has guiding others through their relationships with the dead. In London, young twins ‘Marcus’ and ‘Jason’ (Frankie and George McLaren) are caring for their heroin-addicted mother until Fate intervenes, with tragic results.

Resisting the reality-warping tendencies of some films in the ‘afterlife’ genre, Hereafter is a consummate piece of cinematic story-telling for people who like their movies slow, richly-layered and, ultimately, incredibly moving. 80-year-old Eastwood is at the peak of his considerable powers as a director – and like Peter Jackson did in similar territory with the extraordinary The Lovely Bones (2009) – brings a skilfully-assured, craftsman’s hands to the proceedings.

Damon is excellent as the frustrated ‘George’, while the McLaren boys are wonderful as the young twins – bringing rare and unpretentious emotional clout to their scenes. The scene where Marcus waits patiently for hours outside George’s London hotel proceeded to undo me completely.

Even though the Tsunami sequence is magnificently rendered and entirely worthy of its Oscar nomination for Best Visual Effects, Hereafter quickly moves on to become an utterly compelling and richly rewarding film about our notions of immortality – and is guaranteed to have you thinking about life, death and everything in-between for hours afterwards.

This review was commissioned by the Geraldton Newspaper Group.

Film Review: The Next Three Days

The Next Three Days. Rated M (violence and coarse language). 133 minutes. Written and directed by Paul Haggis. Based on the French film Pour Elle (Anything for Her).

Depending entirely on the extent of your patience for Haggis’ slow-burning build-up, The Next Three Days will either have you shouting “Get on with it!” at the screen, or sitting back and becoming totally immersed – chiefly as a result of Russell Crowe’s beautifully-controlled performance as John, a man determined to free his wife Lara (Elizabeth Banks in top form) from prison.

Haggis, who wrote the screenplays Casino Royale (2004), Million Dollar Baby (2004), and Crash (2004) – which he also directed – is equally determined to take his time. As John finds himself more and more frighteningly out of his comfort zone, Crowe absolutely rises to the occasion – and even though the heard-hearts will shake their heads at the implausibility of it all, those of us who have chosen to go along for the ride, will find immense satisfaction in the carefully considered and structured storytelling.

Danny Elfman’s (Alice in Wonderland, Milk, Wanted) score expertly guides the film’s gradually-increasing tension, while Stéphane Fontaine’s moody and intense cinematography is superb – ranging from the bleak clinical prison and hospital environments to the dangerous, dim, dark alleyways and back streets of suburban Pittsburgh, where John takes his life in his hands to secure key ingredients to his master plan.

Ty Simpkins is great as John and Lara’s surprisingly well-adjusted young son Luke, while Brian Dennehy and Helen Carey provide excellent support as John’s parents. As two Detectives charged with investigating Lara’s innocence, Jason Beghe and Aisha Hinds (True Blood) lend fine, stand-out comedic support, while Liam Neeson sets the tone of the whole affair perfectly in his blink-and-you’ll-miss-him cameo.

Ultimately, The Next Three Days might be considered as a bit of a guilty escapist (pardon the pun) pleasure – but an absolute pleasure nonetheless. The escape sequence, with split-second timing magnificently edited by Jo Francis, is real edge-of-your-seat stuff – with Haggis bringing home the classic “will-they-won’t-they?” thrills in fine style.

Pictured: Elizabeth Banks and Russell Crowe in The Next Three Days.

This review was commissioned by the Geraldton Newspaper Group.