Review of Whiplash (2014)

"Whiplash" works because it is a film about understanding. It places us in the company of two very different characters and by the end, we feel as though their arcs have been fully drawn, and an understanding, or acknowledgement of sorts has been reached, where another film may have settled on base Mannichean motivations. It also works because the writer/director Damien Chazelle has created a piece of primal, almost tribal film-making. It is about a young jazz drummer studying at Shaffer Music Conservatory, Andrew (Miles Teller), who yearns to be "one of the greats", as he puts it. He practices alone in a room. returns alone to his apartment at night, and seemingly does not do much else, until one day Fletcher (J.K Simmons), a seasoned and spiteful music tutor, spots him and gives him a place in his band. Andrew has waited his whole life for this.

Fletcher, it is revealed, is a creature of pure malice. Simmons' (sure to be Oscar-nominated) performance reminded me of Peter Capaldi's spin-doctor Malcolm Tucker from the TV series "Thick Of It", although R. Lee Emery's drill sergeant from "Full Metal Jacket" may be the more recognisable comparison. Every other word from his mouth seems to be a profanity, a sexual exclamation, or a combination of the two. He quickly browbeats Andrew, brings him to the brink of tears, playing malicious mind-games. It is here that one should pay attention to the dialogue; look at how sharply the exchanges are worded, and how Fletcher so incessantly picks apart what Andrew says.

Fittingly, this is Simmons playing new notes, a sort of fleshed out version of the kind of persona he hinted at in his work in Raimi's Spider-Man trilogy. It's also the kind of performance that tends to overshadow a film- as I say, it will likely net an Oscar nomination, and rightly so. But the core and heart of the film is Andrew. Aside from his performance in Project X, he is an actor I am unfamiliar with, but I truly felt like he bared his soul for this film, emotionally and physically. The nature of the drumming he does is brutal and intense, and as best I could tell it was his drumming and not the work of a stand-in or CGI.

But more than this, the film is the most wonderful example of the Bildungsroman, and it all hinges on the fact that Teller is a supremely drawn character. I was reminded of Patrick Fugit's intrepid Rolling Stone report in "Almost Famous", and the eponymous Jack in A.M Home's masterful debut novel; two beautiful, believable characters. He navigates the pitfalls of early adulthood with as much confusion and guile as the rest of us did, but he also carries at his core and undervalued characteristic in American films; determination. I believed that he wanted to be the best drummer he could possibly be, and he carried me along with him. The fantastically drawn scene where he tells his potential love interest Nicole (Melissa Benoist) that he cannot be with her because he must prioritise his drumming almost seemed like an affront to all those films where the principle interest of the teenage characters is sex. He even has a loving relationship with his dad (Paul Reiser). How rare is that in a film about teenagers!

This determination also creates an unusual dynamic with Fletcher. Andrew, understandably, resents the barbaric treatment Fletcher dishes out, but almost against himself he can't help but be drawn in by how Fletcher pushes him into being the best drummer he's capable of being. As I have said, the film is about the pair trying to understand each other, and this is principally a film about understanding. When we do learn about Fletcher's philosophy, we nod along with Andrew.

The film is also as physical as the drum solos Andrew puts himself through. It has a constant, under-lit, high contrast look throughout which has the effect of making us feel like we're constantly in the backrooms, rehearsing, and never in the limelight; a nice mirroring of Andrew's feelings throughout. It is also the work of a director who knows how every single scene, every single shot, should play out, whether it's by shaky-cam, or mounted tripod, or with a shot arrangement to match the throbbing drum solos (in the magnificent, nine-minute finale). Were this not the year of "Birdman"'s one-shot tour-de-force, this would be a lock for best editing and perhaps best cinematography.

Finally, the film has a commitment to credibility and character which is unusual in American underdog movies like this. There is the feeling that at any point, the film could have turned into a thriller, or aped the Rocky structure with the "will he win the final concert?!" tropes. To its credit, it does not. Two-thirds in, it completely abandons structure and instead pursues the course of action that would have followed, instead of egging the audience into anticipation. As a result, it's far more tense and taut (I was wriggling in my seat in places) than if we were being dragged along by third-act revelations and the like. And it most certainly does not settle on some hokey epigram like "follow your dreams".

I believed this film completely. I believed the characters, the scenarios, the relationships, how it was made, and the things the film stood for, and it was a joy to believe in them. It moved me, exhausted me, touched me and thrilled me. It's a faultless exercise in technical and emotional content, and a supreme piece of entertainment, one that will, if there is justice in the world, go on to become a modern classic.

Review of God Help The Girl (2014)

Stuart Murdoch, the lead singer of Belle and Sebastian (incidentally, my favourite band) takes on a task in his new film, and if I'm being frank he succeeds in about two thirds of what he tries. The story of the film will strike aficionados as being similar to Murdoch's own life story. A young girl called Eve (Emily Browning) with anorexia living in a hospital ward finds strength through music and her new-found band to overcome her illness over one lazy summer. 

Murdoch himself was struck with chronic fatigue syndrome over a lengthy seven year period and it took becoming a musician and forming his band to make him better and allow him to be a functioning member of society again. One scene early on in the film, where Eve is shown a triangle which has food and shelter at the bottom, relationships in the middle and morality and art at the top, feels like something Murdoch was told during his illness, even if it wasn't. It rings true. 

Other elements ring true. One scene where Eve, having just escaped from hospital, goes swimming, is shot with a subdued ecstasy and, as well as being aesthetically beautiful, feels like the kind of symbolism (baptism perhaps?) that would belong in a Kieslowski movie. And anther scene where Eve and her band, Cassie (Hannah Murray) and James (Olly Alexander) take a day trip canoeing on a river nails the kind of relaxed charm perfected by the old French New Wave films such as Jules and Jim, which had a lively quality. 

It should go without saying at this point that the score from Murdoch himself is wonderful, and is at least as good as the other Belle and Sebastian albums. Personally I slot it between Arab Strap and Storytelling in their overall canon- a lovely effort. 

I also, I think, enjoyed the quiet and contemplative tone of the film most of all. With beautiful cinematography by Giles Nuttgens the film takes it's time and doesn't want to rush things. This is a 80/90 minute film spread out lovingly over 111 minutes, and it's that loving aspect which worked best for me. Murdoch cares about these characters and wants us to care about them too, and coincidentally this is an aspect the film shares with the very best of Belle and Sebastian's songs. Whether it's Lazy Jane painting her lines, Sukie and her slut-slave, or Hilary going to her death because she couldn't think to anything to say, what makes them my favourite band is their sense of empathy for the people they conjure up in their compositions. To see this carried over into the film was a treat. 

And yet... I'm not going to say that Murdoch should stick to music, but there is a sense that what came to him so easily in one medium didn't quite come with the same ability in another. Narratively, this film is troublesome and scenes have a habit of not leading on from one another in a way that the audience can follow. This isn't to say I was confused, but there are times when the film resembles a narrative and others when it feels like a series of loose vignettes, and this distracted me ever so slightly. That the film has one toe in the realm of fantasy (the baying crowds for the band, Eve being let into the club) contributes to this, because if the film is being slightly fantastical then it should have pursued that slightly more doggedly. 

And then there's the fact that if Murdoch does want us to care about his characters, a little more for us to play with would have helped. Eve is a good person, but I would have liked a little more evidence for me to feel it instead of knowing it. Hannah Murray is a luminous presence but her character was woefully underwritten; essentially not written at all. I came away liking James the most, and his thoughtful, morose musings both tickled me and reminded me of myself, if I'm perfectly frank. He's also the character who most resembles Murdoch's persona now- the religious, arty thinker with unprecedented levels of faith in the power of pop music, and I responded to that. 

What we're left with is a film that is at least partially a success- certain elements don't work and the film has considerable issues, but as a whole it just about pulls itself together. 

(I went to see the film at the marvellous Harbour Lights Picturehouse in Southampton, and part of the screening included a recording of a live concert, I assume truncated from the actual concert, by the band. It was excellent, as you could have expected, and I appreciated them playing their early songs. They also teased some new material without playing it, so fans- be excited. I am).

Review of Jersey Boys (2014)

"Everybody remembers it how they need to"

These words, uttered at the end of the Clint Eastwood's "Jersey Boys", by Tommy DeVito (Vincent Piazza) of The Four Seasons, which also adorn the poster, are crucial to understanding it. This is not a gritty retelling of four boys from Jersey, and the film quickly assuages fears that it's going to be a cheap Scorsese knock-off (it gets the "funny how?" nod in early, and leaves it). Instead it's a soap-opera-lit, presumably historically bastardised, piece of sentiment. It does a wise thing and takes on the qualities of a Valli song itself; glitzy, breezy and good fun. And there's nothing wrong with that. It means the film isn't a paint-by-numbers piece of trash that's the inspirational movie of the week on some channel nobody watches. The film has energy, and the film feels alive.

This is mainly due to the casting. Eastwood has collated a group of young faces as the Four Seasons, and I recognised all of them to some degree; or rather, I recognised qualities in all of them. Piazza, for example, has that same cold aloofness that Robert Pattinson has, and it's used well in this film. Erich Bergen, as songwriter/pianist Bob Gaudio has the same reluctance and determination of a young Steve Buscemi. Michael Lomendi as Nick Massi, the bassist, has that same goofy charm of someone like Jason Sudeikis, that gifted comic actor, and these talents, too, are used well. And then there's John Lloyd Young, who is both the weak link in my theory, and the strong point of the film. He is like no other actor in particular; he is simply like Franki Valli, and we believe his renditions of those timeless songs.  

I was very surprised to learn that for a lot of the cast, this was their first major film (with a few forays into TV). Most of them (bar Piazza) have graduated from the stage musical, yet they all have memorable faces, and I can see this film as their springboard to other things. And then, of course, there's Christopher Walken as the gangster with a heart Gyp DeCarlo (look at how he cries at one of the early Four Seasons concerts), and he does that thing that Walken is very good at doing; being the centre of a scene, projecting quiet intensity and unpredictability, and lending a certain integrity to proceedings. His character is arguably made to be bigger than he needs to be, but I imagine Eastwood, looking at what he had to play with, felt compelled to put more of him in. I can understand that. God bless Christopher Walken. 

The film itself, as you might have gathered, is no masterpiece. But it doesn't need to be. "Everyone remembers it how they used to". I do, however, see the makings of a minor classic in here somewhere. The film hits the notes it amiably sets up so boldly and so perfectly that to criticise the film for being too neat would seem cruel. That's the point. It has its roots in that Tony-winning stage musical (which I have now made it an imperative to see), and that's the best frame of mind to view this film in. When the various characters break the fourth wall and address the camera, one could very well be infuriated... Or you could just have fun with it, and go with it. It befits the musical mentality.

The songs, of course, are what they are, and if you don't know what that is by now then perhaps this film isn't for you. Likewise, if you don't fall for the sweet charm of the Four Seasons songs, then this film isn't for you too. It relies on them, and they often provide the full-stop after moments of dialogue and action. 

I wonder what drew Eastwood to this material. As a biopic, it seems like an odd choice, but then after the "heavy" films he's been giving us lately, perhaps he felt as though something lighter was due. It's certainly good fun, and I can't criticise that. It does what it sets out to do and does it very well indeed. The screenplay by Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice, adapted from their own musical, is genuinely witty in places (the "Vivaldi" exchange was well done) and also actually takes the time to establish the characters as not just types but real people. Eastwood shoots the film in a rather conventional, non-prettyfied way, and that works too. We see what we need to see.

I can't, and won't, comment on the historical accuracy of this film (how could I?), but it certainly feels rather spruced up, tarted up and dolled up in the way biopics nowadays are. The ending, for example, reeks of the convenience of something like that infamous late-night phone-call scene in Frost/Nixon, which is the only scene that the writers conceded was pure invention (and also one of the best moments of the film). This is not a bad thing; in fact, it's just what this material needs.

My one complaint, and it's not necessarily a major one, is that the female roles in this film take a backseat often to the detriment of the overall story. I'm not going to harp on about how there should be more women in the film, or that the film is actually sexist (although some characters are sexist, particularly Tommy DeVito),  as the film is about four men and stays about those four men, but the plot strand concerning Valli's daughter Francine (Freya Tingly) could have done with a scene or two more, just to buff it out and give it extra weight. It feels unnecessarily brushed over, when I would have liked it to be slightly more expanded upon.

And I say that fully aware that this film is 134 minutes long. That length can seem awfully, awfully long, as it did with last year's bloated sack of excess "American Hustle", with which this film shares musical theatricality and little else. The fact that I could have done with this film being longer says, roughly, just how much I enjoyed it. I'm loathe to say this, but I had a superb night at the movies with this one... Oh, what a night.