Matching Curtains

The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus

Filmknitter and I were delighted to catch Terry Gilliam's latest movie The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus on the big screen last week and though the film is at times as messy as we've come to expect from Gilliam, with some scenes feeling a little laboured or too long, it is, on the whole, a very enjoyable experience. With the best effects and CGI utilised by its director to date, the movie is visually stunning and totally befitting of the plot's fairy tale flourishes.

The 'Imaginarium' is a magical, scruffily made mirror which forms part of Doctor Parnassus' Victorian-style travelling theatre. It grants all who walk through it entry to the landscape of their imagination - and that of Parnassus'. However, even in this wonderland the Devil is never far away, lodging in a 50s style American diner and just waiting to acquire another victim ...

Parnassus (Christopher Plummer), his daughter Valentina (Lily Cole, actually rather convincing as an actor), midget Percy (Verne Troyer, or Mini Me as we're all more likely to recognise him) and waif Anton (a munchable Andrew Garfield) live aboard the doctor's three tier charabanc and journey along the modern River Thames performing to people who are either drunk and abusive or aren't really interested. Clad in medieval- looking theatre garb, they are, it's fair to say, totally out of step with the world they inhabit. Parnassus is a bit of a Lear-style character, a former monk on the run from the Devil, played with grizzly aplomb by the imicable Tom Waits, sporting a pork pie hat and raffish tache. Parnassus, silly old fool that he is, made a pact with the Devil for immortality on the proviso that he relinquish his daughter to his nemesis upon her 16th birthday. With Valentina's birthday imminent Parnassus is desperate to save his daughter and, against the advice of the sage wee Percy, makes another bet with old Nick that the first to garner five souls will win Valentina. Will he never learn?! Enter Tony Liar (Heath Ledger), a mysterious stranger who apparently knows nothing about how he came to be found hanging by a noose over the Thames and is not what he seems. Valentina instantly falls for Tony's oily charms, much to her ardent suitor Anton's dismay, and he sets about trying to trip up his rival. Only when the pair enter the Imaginarium is Tony gradually exposed for what he is and the battle for Valetina's safety escalates.

Obviously the mainstream interest in this movie is due to Ledger's death and it is undeniably disturbing to see him hanging and taken for dead in his first scene. He showcases the same comic flair that was present in his last teaming with Gilliam, The Brothers Grimm, and we see much more of him than the press would have had us believe, as he'd shot all bar the Imaginarium scenes. However his character is more of a catalyst than central protagonist - the story is unequivocally an ensemble effort and Tony is just one manifestation of the evil Parnassus is doing battle with. In the weird other world of the Imaginarium it makes a strange kind of sense that Tony would look different as his nasty truth is exposed and it's to Gilliam's credit that it's hard to imagine the movie without Johnny Depp, Jude Law and Colin Farrell (in that order) taking on Tony's character whilst in there. In our first foray into the Imaginarium with Tony, masked as he was outside, I suspect most of the audience did double-takes when the mask is removed to reveal Depp, clad in the same clothing and looking rather like Ledger, dancing on lily pads - the two have remarkably similar features. When Law and then Farrall take over the part, each revealing more and more sliminess (well cast, no?!), Tony's appearance moves further and further away from the fine features of Ledger and Depp to the heavy, swarthier Farrall and this is very effective.

The Imaginarium scenes are in contrast to the mundane contemporary world outside, vibrant and Dali-esque. The individual's experience within it results in either pleasure or fear as they come face to face with the physical manifestation of their psyche. It also enhances the clash of good versus evil which defines the story. There are some truly memorable scenes: one sequence in particular features the beautiful Lily Cole in full-on Jessica Rabbit mode smashing fragments of floating glass (the entrance to the Imaginarium) against a deep black background, the ground beneath her splintering. There are also Monty Python-style sketches worked in, such as policemen singing and dancing in skirts and heels, which pepper the film with some very comical twists, but melancholy is never far away. During Depp's tenure in the Imaginarium rivers weave their way around him, Tim Burton style, with small gondolas bearing pictures of celebrities dead before their time. When he eulogises that 'They are forever young, they won’t grow old', we wonder if this is a tribute of sorts to Ledger. This might sound a bit saccharine or forced but it has the uncanny effect of slotting neatly into the film's other main theme, the weight of immortality. The burden that Parnassus is saddled with comes at great cost; in the modern world there is no place for his whimsy. Perhaps this is how Gilliam also feels about Hollywood, although at least for this movie he got a decent enough budget, something which has eluded his ambitions in the past.

Though outside events will garner a much wider interest in this collision of fantasy and mundanity than the more select crowd Gilliam normally draws, the story is - although labyrinthine - much less odd than one would think. There are winning performances all round, but it is the boyish Garfield and droll Waits who are most memorable, both playing fairy tale archetypes with a modern twist. It is too long, yes, but nonetheless entrancing. A film about the power of the imagination, to which Gilliam's original story and dexterity in working around Ledger's untimely death are perfect testament.

Fantastic Mr Fox

This weekend I sampled the new cinema in Witney, a wee market town a few miles west of Oxford. It's about time Witney had a decent cinema and I'm pleased to report that the first movie I saw there was very enjoyable indeed.

Fantastic Mr Fox has all the hallmarks of a Wes Anderson film: dysfunctional families and their foibles, themes of being different, and a robust and unapologetic retro quality, this time courtesy of handmade, stop-motion puppetry. Bill Murray, Jason Schwartzmann and Owen Wilson - all Anderson regulars - are present and correct to greater and lesser degrees. Only this time, they're providing vocal duties to animal characters based on the wonderful Roald Dahl story of the same name. Oh what fun it is. 

Starring George Clooney doing a deliciously dapper Mr Fox and Meryl Streep as the long suffering Mrs Fox, the all-star cast do a great job of bringing the characters to life, the animals' lives a furry version of reality with the titular hero doing his best to outsmart the mean farmers Boggis, Bunce and Bean, who shot his tail off and are determined to see him dead. The underfox against the Man, if you like. The farmers are all English, led by Michael Gambon as a particularly malicious Farmer Bean, whereas the animals - the good guys - are all Americans. Much has been made of this but it didn't bother me at all - how could it when the vocal performances were spot on? And there's nothing like a posh English accent to suggest the haves and haves nots ...

Fear not people, I'm not about to embark on a Marxist reading of a Roald Dahl adaptation. This movie is fun, fun, fun, garnering more laughs than any other Anderson movie. It references Ocean's Eleven, martial arts movies and most of all, Anderson's own back catalogue - my companion noted how similar it was to some of the sequences in The Life Aquatic. There are some scenes involving underground digging which echo Anderson's earlier movie strongly and the animals have the same trademark gestures as all Anderson's human creations. Simple effects carry the strongest humour, such as the apossum Kylie's zoned out eyes or Mr Fox's son Ash's pathological spitting and hunched demeanour, bitter at being  'little' (has there ever been a puppet fox who looked more like the owner of it's voice, Jason Schwartzmann?). And yet at the same time (if it's not too pretentious to say so), at the core of this movie is an existential message that you are unable to transcend your fundamental self: Mr Fox is a 'wild animal' after all.

Yes this movie is Americanised, yes it's source material is handled loosely, and yes it's fair to say it's geared more at Anderson's traditional adult audience than kids. But the gurgling chuckles of a littl'un behind me suggests there's enough slapstick and comedy to keep the youngsters happy, as well as the grown ups. And if anyone suggests any different, I can only say, in the words of Mr Fox, 'are you cussing with me?'

An absolute gem - catch it soon.

This is It

This year two films have  inspired a particularly mawkish curiosity, due to the untimely deaths of their stars. The first is Terry Gilliam’s The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, starring the late Heath Ledger; the second, This Is It, the documentary footage of rehearsals for what would have been Michael Jackson’s 50 date residency at the O2 in London. It was the latter movie which Filmknitter and I ended seeing last night, despite our intentions. Still, it’s fair to say the life of Michael Jackson was nothing if not fantastical, so on that level I suppose we didn’t lose out too much …

 

The death of Heath Ledger was shocking and completely unexpected. By contrast, it’s fair to say that the death of the self-proclaimed King of Pop wasn’t exactly a total surprise - given the tabloid freak show he became and the tawdry tales which surrounded him, it seemed inevitable that he would meet the same fate as Elvis Presley and other deflated American Dreams, dogged by controversy and morbid media speculation.

 

I can’t deny I’m fascinated by the spectacle (spectre?) of Michael Jackson, so wasn’t too disappointed by the change of plan; he’s produced some of the best pop songs ever made and the yelp of euphoria in ‘Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough’ encapsulates a joy in performing which defies imitation, try as Mr Timberlake may. The image he created of himself was a media personality like no other, taking the idea of a public face to whole new levels. His Wacko Jacko persona (persona is Greek for mask, don’t forget – ironic huh?) wasn’t solely confined to bizarre newspaper stories of oxygen tents and adopting chimps; he actually re-made himself. By the early nineties Jackson was unrecognisable as the sweet little boy who captured people’s hearts when he sang with the Jackson 5. Of course, we all recall the confessional interviews – aged 10, I remember being fascinated by him as he bared his soul to Oprah about his traumatic childhood – and the denials about the extent of his plastic surgery, but it was the child abuse allegations which dogged him for the latter part of his life which were the most perplexing and disturbing. Was Jackson a harmless eccentric, a man who pined for the normal childhood he never had and who was retarded in a pre-adolescent state, unable to realise that his relationships with young boys were unhealthy irrespective of whether there was anything more sinister at work? Or was the Wacko image disguising something darker; was he an arch manipulator caught out, a man whose wealth and fame insulated him against criminal action for the most reprehensible of crimes?

 

Personally I am inclined to believe the former. Watching This Is It I feel validated. There was no real glimpse of the ‘man behind the mask’ (oh how impossible it is to write about Jacko without resorting to cliché), but the behaviour we did witness was infused with the naïve egotism of a child, from his complaints about the decibel levels in his ear piece to the pleas of tour director Kenny Ortega to him to hold the bar of the stage lift for safety, whilst Jackson was more eager to hear the strains of his music playing as they tested the machinery. At the same time, the documentary illustrated the sycophantic ‘yes man’ culture surrounding Jackson – this was a man who was never told ‘no’; was this lonely, I found myself wondering as I observed the damaged man-child giggle over the word ‘booty’ and heard the embarrassingly overwrought, teary Jackson tributes from his dancers? Coming from a country which invented therapy, I couldn’t help wondering why the hell he’d never had any (which had worked) beyond his often ill-advised TV interviews?

 

I don’t want you to think by these comments that the enterprise was designed to elicit sympathy for Jackson. Rather it seemed to want to emphasise his hands on approach to the tour, show him as a powerhouse of agility and ideas. How successful it was in achieving this is doubtful, and hardly helped by vital insights such as the comment that Jackson ‘knew his own records’ from one of his band …

 

As you’d expect, the whole thing was dripping with congratulatory, embarrassing praise for Jackson and there were many cloyingly sentimental moments which drew particularly English snorts of derision from the audience – typical Jackson stuff, such as the saccharine montage for Earth Song with Jacko’s Jesus complex in full mode. And even as the film started, declaring the footage to reveal Jackson’s ‘passionate gift’ to the world, I couldn’t restrain a snigger.

 

The documentary also strove to present its subject as fit and healthy. And granted, in spite of his cadaverous appearance Jackson still seemed fairly agile. Even if he wasn’t as swift as his dancers, he still had the moves, albeit a little dated to a contemporary audience. What couldn’t be doubted was how Jackson revelled in performance – although a supposedly sexy number with a curvaceous female dancer was excruciating to watch by dint of the absence of any chemistry at all between Jackson and his companion.

 

The whole thing was obviously hastily put together to try and make a hero out of Jackson – and more cynically, a fuckload of cash. As a result, it feels a little ... thin.

 

That's a shame given the rehearsals hinted that this would have been one helluva show, had Jackson lived to see things through. The work on the special effects looked really exciting and it’s clear that the O2 residency was designed to be the apotheosis of everything 'Michael Jackson'. Given the frail appearance of Jackson and the concerns he expressed about tiring his vocal chords, it’s easy to speculate about whether the pressure was too much for him and contributed to his increasing dependency on drugs and eventually, his death. But we’ll never know, and this movie offers no clues. We’re promised we’ll meet the man we never knew, but are kept at arms length throughout. Whilst it’s interesting enough to watch the rehearsal footage, half an hour could have been shaved off easily and the project would have lost nothing. It’s a shame we couldn’t have seen more direct footage of Jackson, but I’m sure his Estate have got that covered …

A diverting enough, if bland, offering.

Adaptation Heaven

So straitened circumstances have mitigated against my cinema trips and CD buying (illegal downloading is bad kids ... yeah, right) - where's my loyalty to Matching Curtains you say?! There's a recession on!

Anyway, there's a lot on/coming up at the cinema at the moment which cries out to be seen in a nostalgic, whimsical kinda way. First up is Wes Anderson's stop-motion adaptation of Roald Dahl's Fantastic Mr Fox. Whilst this was never my favourite Dahl (Matilda and The BFG always vied for that accolade), I am excited by the idea of Wes Anderson directing a kids story, thrilled by the idea of George Clooney voicing the titular Mr Fox -Disney's foxy Robin Hood was HOT and a rare example of my forgiving anthropomorphism, so things can only get better with the Silver Fox himself on vocal duties - and frankly overcome by my favourite popstar Mr Jarvis Cocker starring in the movie - and contributing 'Petey's Song' to the soundtrack. I will now have a brief Heat magazine-like moment (if Heatwas similarly obsessed with the gangly one) and coo over the following picture: oooh, doesn't little Albert look cute? And so much like his dad?! And one more thing ... he looks like he should be starring in a Wes Anderson film, bless his cotton socks? Jarvis, I'm available for babysitting and a drive home with you afterwards, if you're still single :-)

Anyway, before I sound too much like a scary stalker, I will move on to Spike Jonze's adaptation of Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are. To be honest, the book always scared me a bit as a kid, but heck this has James Gandolfini voicing one of the Wild Things so what more can you ask for?! It seems to have the patina of melancholy I always associated with the book, but with a more adult orientation. I'm especially intrigued by the movie given it's chequered history: when test footage was leaked to mixed reactions, the movie was delayed for a year whilst Jonze continued to work on it. Will it be worth it?! I can't wait to find out. In the meantime I will content myself with listening to a track Karen O recorded for the soundtrack (Ms O is Jonze's ex, in case you were wondering where the shameless sleb gossip I began this post has disappeared to). Check out 'All Is Love', below:

Oooh, the next few weeks I'm going to be in cinema heaven!

Away We Go

Don't be fooled by the Juno-style doodlings in the ad for this movie (they seem to be de rigeur in indie films at the moment, as they were also present in 500 Days of Summer). Or by Alexi Murdoch's meandering acoustic soundtrack. For all it's shuffling indie appearance, this movie has some heavy hitters behind it, written as it is by husband and wife Dave Eggers and Vendela Vida, and directed by Sam Mendes (American Beauty, Road to Perdition, etc).

I should warn you now that it's impossible to write this review without referencing Mendes' other more stagey films. Away We Go is definitely Mendes doing indie-by-numbers, yet you can tell he still can't resist giving into his naturally stylised direction. His eye for a slick shot is unmistakeable in the movie's 'road trip' sections and an airport scene has echoes of the memorable railstation scene in Revolutionary Road. But whilst Mendes just can't help but frame images beautifully, this movie is clearly a deliberate attempt to create something much less theatrical than anything he's done before. It opens with it's central couple Burt and Verona having oral sex in a messy bedroom which could be plucked from a Kevin Smith set for goodness' sake. Throughout, Mendes abides by the silent laws of indie movie-making, from the silent chapter headings to the not-quite grown up grown ups who are his central characters.

The movie's story is notable for eschewing the epic tragedy we're used to seeing from Mendes and is full of laughter and the occasional soppy moment. Burt and Verona (John Krasinski of the US version of The Office and Maya Rudolph of American staple Saturday Night Live - who, for bonus points, is also Minnie Riperton's daughter) are a very happy couple who are expecting their first baby and who are travelling across the US and Canada to find the perfect place to raise their child. Their only gripe with each other turns on the subject of marriage - he wants to, she doesn't see the point - but it appears this isn't a burning issue. Otherwise they're very content - hardly Frank and April Wheeler - but, thanks to the leads' naturalistic and comfy rapport, their perfect relationship doesn't irritate us. This in spite of the fact that as they meet various friends' families on their travels, whose attitudes and circumstances inform their decisions and highlight various (usually rather wonky) parenting styles, they could easily seem ... well ... pretty smug. It's fair to say that Krasinski and Rudolph are delightful; I didn't know Rudolph at all before this and suspect that many UK viewers will be in the same boat, but she' s really very likeable and she and her co-star are totally believeable as a couple. There are scene stealing appearances from Maggie Gyllenhall (Secretary) who was born to play a floaty, glaze-eyed hippy mum who hates strollers (that's prams, UK folk) because she doesn't see why anyone would want to 'push their baby away from them', and the always engaging Allison Janney (Juno) as a mum whose parenting is built around caustic put downs and an obsession with her boobs; cameos from Catherine O'Hara (Best in Show) and Jeff Daniels (Pleasantville) as Burt's parents are woefully shortlived however.

There's not much to say in terms of my reaction to this movie. I certainly don't think you could hate it. It's very sweet and provokes gentle chuckles and tears. It's meandering plot resolves itself rather predictably but I was glad we didn't end with the cliched climactic childbirth scene. It winds up as quietly as it begins, but somehow manages to evoke more emotion than Mendes' last project. The actors aren't desperately trying to impress their feelings upon us for the sake of acclaim and actually seem like people you might know. Ms Winslet, I think you can try too hard ... The movie's themes of growing up, families and responsibility as viewed by thirty-somethings will appeal directly to a particular demographic and I think the relaxed and understated direction is well suited to the story. It's just a shame it all felt a little too familiar. Charming, affecting, but for all its lo-fi leanings, ever so slightly obvious.

Broken Embraces

Yesterday I went to see Broken Embraces with a friend and am now tasking myself with reviewing this elaborately plotted, puzzling and beautiful looking movie. To give you an idea of the plot is not easy; to even use the word plot is misleading, as Broken Embraces is a multilayered narrative with labyrinthine tales of love, sex, deceit, death, creativity and identity (deep breath) woven through the two hour homage to film-making.

The movie is bookended by Harry Caine (Lluís Homar), a blind scriptwriter formerly known as Mateo Blanco relaying his life story to Diego (a very pretty Tamar Novas), whom it later transpires is his son (I told you, a lot happens in this movie!). Harry's story is is told in flashbacks and montages from his last film as Mateo, 'Girls and Suitcases'. The story involves Harry/Mateo's doomed love affair with Lena (Penélope Cruz), an actress/call girl who is trapped both in flashbacks and scenes from Mateo's movie, yet whose presence dominates the film. Although Broken Embraces is unusual for Almodóvar in it's focus on male characters, it's clear that both Mateo and Almodóvar's creative and romantic desire is encapsulated in the irresistible form of Ms Cruz, who brings the themes of love and art together. Almodóvar has gone on record as saying that even though he's gay, he felt something like desire for Cruz on their last outing Volver, and Broken Embraces is surely the cinematic consummation of that longing. If it's not a complete cliche to say this, the camera caresses Cruz and she defines what we mean by movie star in this picture, bringing glamour and depth to her role. Thank goodness she has the talent to go with those looks! She plays Lena with both vulnerability and old fashioned elegance: a scene where she lip-syncs to video footage of herself is a wonderful example of this.

This sort of meta-theatre is heavily pronounced and whilst characteristic of Almodóvar, scales new technicolour heights here. He references everything from Hitchcock to, well, himself. Check out Mateo's movie 'Girls and Suitcases', a self-reflexive and ironic nod to Almodovar's own camp and garishly coloured Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown - I wonder what former muse Carmen Maura made of Almodóvar's poking fun at their past project?! He also finds time to style the never more seductive Cruz as Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe whilst referencing all manner of things pop, and though much darker than his usual outings the vivid, rich palette which is so recognisably Almodóvar is stamped all over the movie, as is his trademark melodrama. Touches of film noir and Hitchcock abound, but the sweeping tragedy of Mateo's affair is punctuated by moments of pure comedy -  watch out for the lip reader relaying in a flat, disinterested tone to Lena's jealous sugar daddy Ernesto (José Luis Gómez) what she and Mateo are discussing in footage his creepy son secretly films.

Pause for another deep breath. That was a lot to express!

There are many repeated thematic and visual motifs too: from the recurring illnesses that Ernesto uses to manipulate people and which redeem the choices made by Lena and Judit (Almodóvar regular Blanca Portillo) to the stairs which vertiginously symbolise danger and suspense. Yes, Almodóvar is throwing everything he can at this movie and it truly saturates us with colour and complexity. It demands our attention and at times, our credulity. Almodóvar on speed, basically. I adored it and suspect that a second watch would reward a more informed review than the one I give you now. As a film-lover, it hit my cinematic g-spot after just a few minutes in. For me, it was a dizzying and dazzling masterpiece, but I do wonder if the project's self-absorbed tone would suit everyone. However, even if you leave the cinema feeling irritated by the clever-clever antics of its creator, you will also emerge with more than a little crush on Cruz, who steals the (very showy) show from under her director's nose.

500 Days of Summer

OK, so I can't be objective about this movie, I need to set my stall out right from the start. I instantly adored it. Why wouldn't I? Two charming leads, a soundtrack which is easily my iPod on random, and clever visual flourishes which never detract from the movie's honest and humorous presentation of what it is to be in love and have your heart broken ... this movie has every ingredient I desire to win my praise.

This refreshing subversion of the rom com stars Zooey Deschanel as the titular Summer, who breaks Joseph Gordon-Levitt's character Tom's heart after they meet  at work. Summer is a Ringo Starr loving, sixties haircut wearing girl who doesn't believe in love; Tom is an idealistic, eighties indie-loving trained architect who writes messages for greetings cards. We see their relationship scrambled over the 500 days they were together, scenes often cleverly juxtaposed or replayed with some tableaus meaning the opposite of what we'd first inferred.

When Harry Met Sally in reverse, the movie has all the fizz and spark of that film even though the relationship featured is ending. A droll opening and narratorial voice set a witty tone which never abates and is complemented by moments of sheer joy (the dance to Hall & Oates' 'You Make My Dreams' sums up the euphoria of a first night with someone), soul and sadness. As my friend commented as we left the cinema, the misery is never at the expense of a belief in love and fate, as the upbeat ending serves to remind us. Sure, Summer actually seems like a bit of a bitch and I'm guessing at least one of the writers has had a pretty bad experience ... Why? Check out the authors note in the opening credits: 'The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Especially you Jenny Beckman. Bitch.' But the casting of Deschanel helps us to like Summer even though she breaks Tom's heart. Yes, Deschanel's doll like cutseyness occasionally grates and there's no attempt to give her much internal life, but generally she's as appealing as you would expect her to be - Summer gets away with much more than if another actress had taken on the role. And she gets to sing! Plus, on a sartorial note, I loved every single item of clothing she wears (could she be shaping up to be this generation's Diane Keaton? I've certainly read reviews comparing 500 Days to Annie Hall and heartily endorse this view). I've not seen Joseph Gordon-Levitt in much, but after this I will keep my eyes open for future projects - he has a lively on-screen presence and is equally as likeable as Tom, demonstrating excellent comic timing. Thinking of the male-female dynamic more widely, I also enjoyed seeing a movie in which it was the female character who was the cynic about romance and the pair were incredibly believable as an item. The script is full of wit and makes much of this fact:

Summer: We've been like Sid and Nancy for months now.
Tom: Summer, Sid stabbed Nancy, seven times with a kitchen knife, I mean we have some disagreements but I hardly think I'm Sid Vicious.
Summer: No, I'm Sid.
Tom: Oh, so I'm Nancy...

The laughs are light and frequent and moments of sadness all too easy to empathise with; accompanied by a soundtrack which includes everything from The Smiths and Mumm-Ra to Regina Spektor and Simon & Garfunkel, this movie is, in my view, perfect. Fresh, playful and well executed, 500 Days does what Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist tried to do and gets there less self consciously. This is is a story for men and womenfolk of my generation and is one of the most easy to relate to films I've seen in a very long time. Loved.

Pete Yorn & Scarlett Johansson - Relator

After her cover versions of Tom Waits songs, which I wasn't especially impressed by, I wasn't expecting much when I heard Scarlett Johnsson was collaborating with US singer Pete Yorn. However I can't help but like 'Relator', the opening track on their album 'Break Up'. Granted the recording manages to cover up her rather flat delivery, which is much more evident in this live performance, but nonetheless its jingly jangly, cute music which I think suits a sunny Saturday afternoon. I hope you agree ...

The Family Stone - DVD review

Thomas Bezucha's Christmas-time movie about the titular Stone family meeting their son's new and uptight girlfriend suffers the same definition problems as the likes of The Break Up or Shopgirl, in that it's neither a full on comedy nor an outright drama. It also means that the studio's marketing bods royally screwed up with the tagline 'Before she gets the ring she must survive the family!'. Such a tagline implies the movie will sit comfortably alongside the likes of slapstick comedies Monster in Law or Meet the Parents. Whilst there are some genuinely funny slapstick moments in this movie, there are also a number of very poignant and sensitive setpieces which afford the plot a greater originality than the lazy promotional art (doesn't the poster look like a bad TV show?) and marketing would suggest.

The story centres on Meredith, a repressed career woman played by Sarah Jessica Parker (whom in the style of all the best gossip mags, I will refer to as SJP from hereon in :-)) and her first encounter with boyfriend Everett's eccentric family at Christmas (Everett played by Dermot Mulroney). SJP couldn't look or behave more differently to Carrie Bradshaw: her hair is scraped back from her face severely and her petite frame encased in rigid, monochrome business suits, symbolising her character's conservative and judgmental attitude well. The Stones are the antithesis of Meredith: they are a left-wing, bohemian American family who are fiercely close and who do not, it's fair to say, warm to the po-faced Meredith at all. One of my favourite actresses Diane Keaton leads the family as it's redoubtable matriarch Sybil, and is joined by an impressive ensemble cast including Craig T. Nelson as her husband and Luke Wilson and Rachel McAdams as two of of her five kids.

To begin with the movie seems pretty standard: Sybil and McAdams' Amy instantly spy that Meredith isn't right for Everett and a series of bitchy contretemps ensue. However we soon realise there is much more going on in the family: Sybil is very ill and trying to conceal it from her family so as to enjoy one last Christmas with them, and there may be something brewing between Everett and Meredith's sister, played by the always luminous and intense Claire Danes ... Things are not reconciled easily between any of the characters and the romance between Meredith and Everett itself seems negligible when a series of events involving a family wedding ring, Luke Wilson's character Ben and a lot of beer, bring all the tensions - dramatic and comedic - to a head.

What impressed me about this movie was it's boldness. Not only does it subvert a well worn formula - the family dramedy - it does so with a mean streak which lets none of its characters off the hook: nearly all of them seem rather irritating to begin with, from the neo-conservative Meredith to the sanctimonious liberals in the Stone household. When Meredith makes an ill-advised comment on gay relationships to Sybil's gay son Thad (Tyrone Giordano) it would be easy to condemn her, but SJP plays her with a sensitivity which illuminates her character's vulnerability and allows us to feel protective of her even as we disagree with her views. It's a great performance from SJP and makes me wonder why she has agreed to a sequel of the Sex and the City movie when she is evidently capable of so much more (as indeed, her previous projects also highlight). Likewise, the arrogance of the liberal Stone family and their inability to accept Meredith magnifies their own blind spots and hypocrisy, but we still admire Sybil's pluck and desire to see her family right. Including a deaf main character in the form of Thad is done without drawing attention to itself; the cast sign elegantly and naturally as they chat and I found this casual approach to disability refreshing given the heavy-handed treatment Hollywood usually affords such topics.

Cliches are turned on their head in this film and after its so-so start I found myself totally absorbed by the characters, whose back stories are revealed in hints and asides rather than the usual obvious exposition, rendering them much more real. The cast are nearly all tremendous and totally believable as a family unit - the Stone children all look like siblings and have a wonderful affinity with each other. I was especially taken by Rachel McAdams, who at times looks rather plain and peaky as the put out and snappish sister Amy, in contrast to some of her more glamourous roles. She never seems to receive the hype of her peers but I think she's going to be an actress who's always in work and who deserves much more critical recognition. SJP would have been my favourite of the piece though, were it not for the formidable presence of Diane Keaton, who never chews up the scenery but still casts her influence large over the cast (like all mums should!) and in one particular scene, moved me to tears. The only downer was Dermot Mulroney as the insipid Everett -I found myself asking not why he was with Meredith, but why she was with him! He lacked the character of his siblings and even when he opened up it was hard to believe in him; he was the only weak link in an otherwise superb production and I think more the victim of a badly written character than his own dearth of talent.

The Family Stone could easily be a play, it is so rich in characterisation and story. That we never lose interest despite much of the action taking place under one roof is testament to the talent and generosity of it's cast. I highly recommend this movie - it's a superior project by anyone's standards. Have the tissues ready for the ending though ...

Funny People

One more movie review to be squeezed in before August - and thus, summer - is over. What a shame then, that I have to report that Judd Apatow's latest movie Funny People is not, well, that funny. Adam Sandler plays famous comic George Simmons, who when he discovers he has a potentially untreatable form of leukaemia, hires struggling comedian Ira (a slimmed down Seth Rogen, the butt of many a weight loss joke here) as a PA and joke writer. The pair's relationship forms the core of the first half of the movie, until George learns that his disease has gone into remission and he decides to catch up with 'the one that got away' Laura (Leslie Mann), now married with two kids to Aussie entrepreneur Clarke (Eric Bana).

The movie attempts to garner laughs whilst dealing with serious issues such as death and whether people ever really learn from their mistakes, and is an odd, somewhat disjunctive blend of vulgar dick jokes and sentimentality. Which only sometimes works. I'm not averse to the sort of humour Apatow movies are famed for, but here the comedy just felt juvenile, repetitive and embarrassing. There were few belly laughs generated from the audience - this regrettably included the stand up scenes - and my companion, who I'd been hoping Funny People would convert, was pretty unimpressed. So much so, she didn't think she could bring herself to blog on it, which to my mind says it all. It didn't help that the funniest scenes had been showcased in the trailer.

The main problem I had with Funny People was the casting of Adam Sandler, who with the exception of his character in The Wedding Singer, I've never warmed to - he lacks the 'likeability' factor of his co-star Seth Rogen. I'm also yet to be convinced that Sandler can actually act; his idea of expressing emotion seems to be to affect a glazed look and monotone delivery which is anything but affecting. Rogen is, by contrast, very good as the unlucky-in-love Ira and is supported well by Apatow regular Jonah Hill and the small but perfectly formed Jason Schwartzmann. The real highlight of this movie though, was Eric Bana, who hams it up superbly as Australian cliche Clarke and shows that though his stand up days are behind him, his comic timing most certainly isn't. I also thought Apatow's little girls were excellent as Laura and Clarke's kids, though how Maude Apatow will feel in a few years about footage of a school play being used in a major Hollywood movie remains to be seen. Indeed, this is something of a family movie as Lesley Mann is also Apatow's wife. The Apatow set is certainly a tight one - we have cameos from former Apatow player Justin Long amongst others, and also more random appearances from Eminem and Ray Romano (Everybody Loves Raymond). The proliferation of familiar faces threatens to overwhelm this movie, which at over two hours could easily have lost thirty minutes and not lost anything.

However, it was interesting to see so many sought after comedy actors in one movie and to watch vintage footage of Sandler during his stand up days. The movie also boasts a great soundtrack, courtesy of Jason Schwartzmann: it features lots of seventies tunes from the likes of George Harrison, John Lennon and James Taylor, who also cameos and provides one of the movie's best - and most unexpected - punchlines. It's just a shame that with so many quality actors and a good track record, Apatow seems to have delivered his first damp squib. Whilst a unique attempt for the mainstream to survey the genesis of stand up routines and fuse comedy to much darker, soul searching issues, the movie is not strong enough to carry the ideas invested in it.