Film Review: Kingsman: The Secret Service

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Kingsman: The Secret Service. Rated MA 15+ (strong violence and coarse language). 129 minutes. Directed by Matthew Vaughn. Screenplay by Jane Goldman and Matthew Vaughn. Based on the comic book by Mark Millar and Dave Gibbons.‬

Verdict: An abundance of violence undermines a potentially great film.

It’s either an incredibly brave or equally naïve creative team who would dare to take on the celebrated spy movie genre, which has been enjoying something of a renaissance with Daniel Craig’s spectacularly produced outings as James Bond in films such as Casino Royale, Quantum of Solace and 2012’s superb Skyfall.

Trust Vaughn (Kick-Ass, X-Men: First Class) to throw caution to the wind and deliver a timely variation on the grand themes associated with espionage, which also packs a mighty punch in relation to the perils of our reliance on our precious mobile phone technology.

When special agent Harry Hart’s (Colin Firth) colleague is murdered during a mission, he visits the man’s widow Michelle (Samantha Womack) and young son to offer his unconditional and life-long support. When the boy, Gary ‘Eggsy’ Unwin (Taron Egerton), grows up to become a troubled teenager desperately trying to help his mother break out of an abusive relationship, Hart returns and offers Eggsy the opportunity to end the relentlessly abusive cycle and make something of his life.

Firth and Egerton are fantastic as the stylish Hart and his protégé, and Kingsman only works as well as it does because of their committed, engaging and enthusiastic performances. Samuel L. Jackson is wickedly entertaining as the lisping villain Richmond Valentine, who plans to solve the problem of climate change by eliminating most of the world’s population via their SIM cards.

The only problem is that if Vaughn wasn’t as convinced that we need as much ultra-violence on screen to make a lasting impression, he would be a film-maker whose films would reward close, and a good deal more devoted, attention.

This review was commissioned by the West Australian Newspaper Group.

Film Review: The Railway Man

The Railway Man. Rated M (mature themes and violence). 116 minutes. Directed by Jonathan Teplitzky. Screenplay by Frank Cottrell Boyce and Andy Paterson. Based on the book by Eric Lomax.

Verdict: A superb account of an incredible true story about learning to forgive.

I discovered Eric Lomax’s autobiographical account of his experience as a prisoner of war in a bookshop many years ago. This unassuming book by one of the few who were able to recount the horror of their experiences in the wilds of tropical Asia after Singapore fell to the Japanese in 1942, has always held a very special place in my heart. If there is a definitive story about the immeasurable value of forgiveness, this is it.

When Eric Lomax (Colin Firth) meets Patti (Nicole Kidman) on a train, it is love at first sight – but almost immediately after their wedding, Eric’s nightmares threaten to destroy their life together. Patti refuses to be defeated by the invisible horrors, and tracks down her husband’s friend and comrade Finlay (Stellan Skarsgård) in an effort to find out what happened to Eric during the war. As Finlay reluctantly shares their story of being forced to construct the notorious Thailand–Burma Railway, we experience it through the eyes of the young Eric (Jeremy Irvine) and one of his Japanese tormentors Takashi Nagase (Tanroh Ishida). Years later, when Eric discovers that Nagase (Hiroyuki Sanada plays the older Nagase) is working as a railway tour guide, he returns to the scene of his torment to right the wrongs that continue to destroy whatever chance of peace he might have.

Boyce and Paterson’s considered adaptation focuses on the essential conflict in Lomax’s courageous account, and Australian-born Teplitzky (Burning Man, Better Than Sex) resists the temptation to glorify the characters – focussing, instead, on the intimate human drama of their shared circumstances. He is rewarded by outstanding performances from his cast, especially Irvine (War Horse), whose beautifully crafted performance as the young Eric informs Firth’s excellent turn as the older Lomax.

Throughout its final sequences of retribution and healing, Firth and Sanada are magnificent, but nothing prepares you for the penultimate scene in the un-used railway cutting, when the film-makers realise the everlasting value of Eric Lomax’s life story to absolute perfection.

This review was commissioned by the West Australian Newspaper Group.

Film Review: The King's Speech

The King’s Speech. Rated M (coarse language). 118 minutes. Directed by Tom Hooper. Screenplay by David Seidler.

When King Edward VIII (Guy Pearce) abdicates for the love of his paramour Wallis Simpson (Eve Best), his brother the Duke of York (Colin Firth) becomes a reluctant King George VI. Championed by his wife Elizabeth (Helena Bonham-Carter, romping through as the young woman who would become The Queen Mother), the King-in-Waiting has been working with Australian speech therapist Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush) to conquer his childhood stammer. What awaits the determined (and hopefully articulate) young royal, are the most tumultuous events of the 20th century.

The grand themes of triumph over adversity and severe personal affliction waft through this fresh-out-of-mothballs period jaunt that frequently reminds us just how much more suited to the stage (as was originally intended) it would have been. Only twice (in a atmospheric scene in a fog-filled London park and an equally picturesque drive to a snow-bound country estate) does the story seem to take to the screen – the rest of the time remaining determinedly and self-consciously stage-bound.

Firth delivers a familiar riff on his signature wounded, doe-eyed, domiciled every-husband persona (much as he did in Nanny McPhee and A Single Man), and while his performance is technically quite brilliant, it is equally emotionally shallow. Firth and Rush (relishing a quirky, colonial Henry Higgins) have all the best scenes, but the jousting is never entirely convincing – chiefly because the quest to be able to speak fluently never seems as important to the young prince as it does to his adoring wife.

While it owes a debt to The Queen and Peter Morgan’s fascinating study of behind-the-scenes royal protocols that drove it, Seidler’s screenplay is terrifically taut – with a fine comedic line that escorts the film into almost impossibly cheerful (and accessible) territory.

You could, however, be forgiven for not fully appreciating the historical significance of the either the abdication, the ascension or the ‘speech’ of the title. Seidler’s apolitical screenplay steadfastly refuses to engage with the critical rupture in the history of the English monarchy – nor, more peculiarly, the Hitler-lead rise of fascism in neighbouring Europe. Hitler’s appearance (courtesy of some compelling archival footage) appears to be more of a distraction rather than the reason for which the King will be required to speak to his subjects in a manner in which they have never been spoken to before.

Hooper’s direction and Danny Cohen’s (Dead Man’s Shoes) cinematography are all over the place stylistically, and not even the consummate skills of editor Tariq Anwar (American Beauty) can account for the extent to which the coronation scene (the rehearsal for which is the absolute highpoint) hijacks the momentum.

Ultimately, it is only its Pygmalion-inspired triumphalism on the eve of World War II that ensures it limps home.

Pictured: Colin Firth and Helena Bonham-Carter in The King's Speech.

This review was commissioned by the Geraldton Newspaper Group.

DVD Review: Dorian Gray

Dorian Gray. 107 minutes. MA15+. Directed by Oliver Parker. Written by Toby Finlay. Based on the novel The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde.

The Picture of Dorian Gray – Oscar Wilde’s grand, gothic fairytale about vanity, hedonism, narcissism and the combined destructive powers of youth and beauty – has long been considered an important and influential literary achievement. It was Wilde’s only published novel and, like his most famous play – The Importance of Being Earnest – is considered an indisputable classic. It was also memorably (and some might say rather perfectly) adapted for the screen in 1945 by writer/director Albert Lewin, and our generation of filmmakers appeared to have had the good sense to leave it alone.

Until now.

Dorian Gray (Ben Barnes) has everything going for him: he’s young, attractive, rich and poised to take on the world. When an artist, Basil Hallward (Ben Chaplin), paints a portrait of the young man that will take pride of place on a wall in his recently inherited mansion, Dorian becomes increasingly obsessed with his own beauty and the luxury of riches and choices such good fortune bestows upon him. Under the tutelage of a sinister Lord Henry Wooton (Colin Firth), Dorian embarks on a journey of earthly (and unearthly) delights that will risk delivering him to the very depths of despair.

With all the subtly of a landmine, Parker’s contemporary retelling of Wilde’s fantastically complex, inventive and – most importantly, timeless – morality tale entirely misses the point: which is what you see is often not what you get. Here, instead, is an adaptation so startlingly lacking in imagination and intellect that you ‘see’ and ‘get’ everything.

Roger Pratt’s (Troy, Harry Potter, Twelve Monkeys) cinematography, John Beard’s (The Last Temptation of Christ) production design and Ruth Myers’ (The Golden Compass) costuming are all magnificent – but while the way a film looks can often account for the way it feels, all the mysterious and menacing subtly, sophistication and suggestion that powers the novel (and its previous cinematic incarnation) have been recklessly abandoned by both Parker and first time screenwriter Finlay.

Barnes (pictured, who played the title role in The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian) tackles the difficult lead role with great charm and good grace – even if his performance suffers from the same desperately frantic quality in which the entire film eventually drowns. The supporting cast tackle all the reductively self-indulgent nonsense with an ever-increasing air of desperation, while an almost impossibly understated Firth spends much of the film reciting the dialogue as though he’s trying to remember what he needs to get from the supermarket.

As Lord Wooton says to our young antihero: The only two things worth having are youth and beauty. Add another: Respect.

This review was commissioned by the Geraldton Newspapers Group and was published in the print edition of the Midwest Times.