The Eager Have Landed- JACKBOOTS ON WHITEHALL Review

The latest development in my ongoing mission to finally see all the films I wanted to see at this year's Edinburgh Film Festival took me to a Nazi-occupied Britain, and Jackboots on Whitehall. It's been quite dangerously compared to Team America- World Police, an action movie parody with puppets that was so on the nose that Michael Bay's face has never looked the same since.

In an alternate history where the Dunkirk landings were a colossal failure, the German invasion of Britain is imminent, led by the not-yet-exploded Hindenburg. A plucky farm boy called Chris leads the charge from a small village in Kent to Downing Street, where he helps rescue a belligerent Winston Churchill from the invaders. He and his rag-tag resistance decamp to Scotland, to fight against Hitler in the final battle for England.

 

Jackboots on Whitehall's primary players are largely Action Man and Barbie style figurines, whizzing around in Airfix models and toy tanks, and animated to some degree with CGI. It pains me to say that a film with this much potential falls short of the mark, and that such an interesting premise turned out so ordinary. I would go so far as to say that the script as actualised plays out like a first draft, and one which never ever would have been produced in live action.

It's not that the astounding art direction and production design are gimmicks, but that Edmund and Rory McHenry needed to give the script another polish before they settled into their directors' seats to visualise it. The favourable comparisons to Team America don't work because although Trey Parker and Matt Stone obviously had fun with the strictures of puppetry and they made a good-looking film, they're also writers first and foremost. This one plays out like a first draft, because in a second draft, the McHenries would surely have added more jokes.

As an aspiring screenwriter myself, I would never presume or insinuate that the McHenries are lazy. This certainly isn't a lazy film, but it feels like it was out of the gate too quickly. Like even another month of script editing would have helped before they got the toys out. Instead, the film does very well at capturing the tone they're after, that of Sunday afternoon war films like The Eagle Has Landed and The Great Escape, by drawing on comedy stereotypes of nationality and a literacy in popular cinema that pulls in various visual and spoken references. But there's not a lot of substance to it, which is to say that it's not really that funny.

I'll tell you exactly the point where the script broke me, because every other review is mentioning it as well. Somewhere in the last fifteen minutes, the stereotypical lampoon of the Scots leads the dialogue to Braveheart jokes. And more than that, a Mel Gibson joke. Part of that Mel Gibson joke actually made me facepalm. I didn't even facepalm when I saw Takers. It's an easy pot-shot at an actor that isn't exactly current, and has no real place in a film set around World War II. To be blunt, it's like a joke from "2 of the 6 writers of Scary Movie"- repent of your sins before my Vampires Suck review comes online next week...

The film has its moments, certainly. For instance, Richard E. Grant's voice acting as the ribald vicar is one of my favourite vocal performances in a while. None of the the cast are as present as Grant on-screen in their plastic counterparts, but none of it sounds phoned in. Timothy Spall does a decent Churchill impression, and Ewan McGregor always sounds earnest with his type of character, but I concede that he does a surprisingly good West Countries accent. But as I say, the obvious love that everyone involved had for the basic idea made it all the more depressing that the final result wasn't better.

The filmmakers' enthusiasm works both for and against Jackboots on Whitehall. It carries a torch for the cinematic pleasures of Michael Caine portraying a Nazi or Clint Eastwood raiding a German castle, and recreates that era rather nicely with some seriously impressive toy-based art direction. The ambition is there, it's just a shame that the laughs aren't. Once again, the script desperately needed work, in my opinion- it should be seated next to Blackadder, not precariously close to that red-headed stepchild of wartime satire, Churchill: The Hollywood Years. It looks and sounds great, but very sadly, it's a disappointment.

Jackboots on Whitehall is now playing in selected cinemas nationwide.
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If you've seen Jackboots on Whitehall, why not share your comments below? I now need to catch up with that other toy movie, A Town Called Panic. I wasn't looking forward to that one as much, but hopefully a more pleasant surprise awaits.

I'm Mark the mad prophet, and until next time, don't watch anything I wouldn't watch.

Spiritually Speaking

As something of a regular disclaimer, it's only my opinion here- others are available. As ever, mild spoilers may occur in the process of reviewing, but never so far as to spoil any major plot developments.

Britain, Britain, Britain, as a good old Doctor intoned on a not-as-good comedy show. With the election currently rattling Britain up and down and all over the place, and multiculturalism still proving a thorny issue in some quarters, it's better to just go to the cinema and forget about politics. You can find a satire of religious and political differences with that bloke off the moneysupermarket.com ads in The Infidel, or a scathing and thinly-veiled look at Tony Blair's premiership in Roman Polanski's The Ghost.
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The Infidel centres around Mahmud Nasir, a British Muslim who is frequently agitated by the coverage of religious extremists in the media. The more moderate Mahmud just wants to clear his late mother's house out as his son asks him to be a good Muslim for a visit by his fiancée's new stepfather, a fundamentalist cleric. Mahmud resolves to muddle through, until he finds adoption papers in his mother's effects. Apparently his birth name was Solly Shimshillewitz, and he was born Jewish.

It's not the most conventional premise for a comedy, but I should say from the off that this won't upset nearly as many people as Chris Morris' upcoming Four Lions. That said, I don't think The Infidel is necessarily destined to be overshadowed by that film. It's an endearing comedy drama that doesn't skimp on laughs or more dramatic beats throughout its 1 hour and 45 minutes.

David Baddiel's script is witty and actually kind of profound, with Omid Djalili playing a role it's actually really difficult to imagine anyone else playing. When a performance makes an actor seem indispensable, it should really be applauded. The straight man to his loud antics is Richard Schiff, who's nicely sardonic as a Jew who decides to help Mahmud discover his identity with videos of Fiddler on the Roof and lectures on different types of Jew. Look out also for turns by the gorgeous Tracy Ann Oberman and the brilliant Matt Lucas.

Along the way, the hypocrisies and disputes of both Islam and Judaism are played up, but it's never disrespectful or offensive. Certain caricatures are brought into view, like a hook-handed right-hand man to a Muslim cleric or Jews having an in-built angst that entirely sums them up, but these are ultimately dispelled. The Infidel is not a film concerned with poking fun at religion, but rather in exploring its role in personal identity.

It's not going to set the world alight as Four Lions is expected to, but it is a warm and hilarious film that deserves to be more broadly seen. I even forgave it for its indulgence in the closing credits by finally having Mahmud do a funny dance, seeing as how Djalili seems to be known largely in Britain as "the bloke who does funny dances." And hey, it is still funny when they acquiesce to it- it is, after all, a funny dance!

It nearly outstays its welcome at a running time only a little longer than average for a comedy film, but it's an oddly strategic film. Baddiel's voice translates to the screen very well, and it feels like he knew exactly what he wanted to say and how it would unfold. The Infidel strikes at how ludicrous extremism is without forsaking righteousness, and it's a fine comedy drama that you should seek out if you get the chance.

The Infidel is now playing in selected cinemas across the UK.
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The Ghost refers to the nameless protagonist, played by Ewan McGregor, who is recruited to ghost write the memoirs of former Prime Minister Adam Lang, played by Pierce Brosnan. The previous manuscript is a crock of shit, but with Lang under investigation by the UN for war crimes, his rivals circle around the writer to try and get hold of its secrets. As he digs deeper, it transpires that Lang may have handed terrorist suspects over to the CIA for torture, and even his predecessor may have been murdered in the scramble to cover up the truth.

To begin, I'd like to quickly say a massive FUCK YOU to any self-righteous tits who've dropped by to accuse me of funding and/or endorsing statutory rape by seeing and reviewing a film by Roman Polanski, as they have elsewhere. It's possible to enjoy this film and still want Polanski to go to jail for his crime, and I don't need moralising from Mail-reading tossers like you. Ahem.

The director's real-life controversy has obvious effects from the opening seconds of The Ghost. He finished editing the film from a Swiss prison, but the name change in foreign markets from The Ghost Writer to The Ghost has left Optimum tacking a poor graphic from the end of the international trailers onto the beginning of the film. It's blunt and poorly implemented, and I can't be the only one who thinks The Ghost Writer sounds better anyway.
What follows though is rather consummately realised, given the circumstances of its post-production. It's a taut thriller, maintaining a strong air of political paranoia and conspiracy theory without ever being any less than exhilarating. The only lull I can remember is somewhere around the last half hour, and it comes right before a glorious peak in the intrigue. The parallels with Tony Blair are there to be read into, as was intended in the Robert Harris novel the film is based on, but it still stands up entirely on its own merits.

Pierce Brosnan is making a fine showing at the multiplex this week, and I've been dazzled by him in both this and Remember Me. Maybe he's finally casting off the shadow of Bond as a character that captures all of Blair's charisma and self-importance while still feeling unique. I was surprised how little he's in the film- we're fully half an hour in before his first appearance and his appearances are intermittent thereafter, but his presence is always felt. Ewan McGregor seems to have got a comparative drubbing for what many have called a poor Mockney accent, but I heard nothing wrong with the offending dialect. Olivia Williams and Tom Wilkinson shine too where many others might fade into the background to McGregor and Brosnan, and it's worth watching everyone in the sprawling narrative.

Sprawling would ultimately be the key word to describe The Ghost. It's come through the problems of its production admirably to stand as one of the better films of the year so far. With its acknowledgement of Hitchcock's similarly paranoid thrillers and occasional echoes of Polanski's earlier horror film The Tenant, it almost feels out of its time in 2010, despite all contemporary parallels. Although the plot becomes ever so slightly inscrutable after the big twist, the impact of that twist is enough to leave a strong impression on the audience, along with a truly haunting final shot. Exciting, entertaining, and if this is the end to Polanski's somewhat eclectic career, it's a very fine swansong indeed.

The Ghost is playing in cinemas now.
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If you've seen either of these films and want to comment on them, on my reviews, or to congratulate me on not celebrating my 50th post in any way whatsoever, why not share you comments below?

I'm Mark the mad prophet, and until next time, don't watch anything I wouldn't watch.

Shut My Mouth

Hm, I might just stick to making these review posts every Friday. Brings some regularity to the blog, but then it's possible I see far too many films for one post a week to cover. The reason I've taken so long to get to this post is that I'm going up in the world, somewhat, having written for Den of Geek and I've made a titamaboob of myself on BBC Five Live, more of which later. Back where I belong, I've got reviews of Shutter Island and I Love You Phillip Morris for your enjoyment.
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Shutter Island is based on a bestselling novel, and brings Martin Scorsese back to a genre territory he hasn't roamed since his 1991 remake of Cape Fear. Since then, he's eschewed Robert deNiro as an acting "muse" and instead adopted Leonardo DiCaprio. In 1954, Teddy Daniels, played by DiCaprio, is a federal marshal dispatched to the remote mental institution of the title in order to investigate an inmate's disappearance. Mysteries build on top of mysteries as Daniels battles his own personal trauma and the unorthodox regime of Cawley and Naehring, the head doctors at the facility, to discover where the missing patient has gone. What's the law of 4? Who is 67? And most importantly at all, what is real and what is a pretence?

To offer a little context, this film's release was delayed from October last year, knocking it out of contention for the Oscars and prompting speculation about tensions between Scorsese and the studio. I don't believe that for a minute, because Scorsese is one of the best in the business and this is another masterpiece. Regardless of any changes made in the last five months, I'm really saddened that this film wasn't released early enough to have a shot with the Academy, because with genre fare getting rare recognition this year, the time was just right for a prestige horror film like Shutter Island to garner awards. This is creepy, tense and dreadful- as in full of dread- from start to finish. The second half in particular is a master-class in horror, ramping up the scares to a maximum as Daniels is thrust into a darkened Civil War fort with the most dangerous inmates on the island.

More than that, there's a terrific balancing act at work between horror and mystery. DiCaprio is rather marvellous at the forefront, but only when the film is finished will you fully appreciate how important it was for Mark Ruffalo, (SIR!) Ben Kingsley, Max von Sydow, Emily Mortimer and John Carroll Lynch put in the fantastic turn that they do while backgrounded by Daniels' investigation. Elsewhere, Elias Koteas and Jackie Earle Haley each give brief but electrifying and potentially film-stealing performances as two of the more deranged patients. The film's also got a knot of Nazi-phobia at its heart, which informs the most profound horror in Shutter Island- in the post-World War II setting, the Holocaust serves to remind humanity of its worst excesses. It's not a theme that has never been explored before, but the motif of Dachau is indicative of what humans are capable of doing to one another, and plays very well in the environment of the film. And here the traumatised figures it left behind find that violence has very real consequences and implications, a theme that comes to a crux in a scene where the facility's warden chastises God for loving violence so much.

There are only two real problems with Shutter Island. One- the score, assembled from a number of classical composers' works, is intrusive and jarring, and it belies the real value of the otherwise very impressive work. And two- the momentum is snatched away soon after the main twist in the tale, as everyone simply stops to explain all that has happened despite how the twist itself has been telegraphed from near the very beginning of the film. But for the most part, this is just an excellent horror film from a master craftsman of cinema. Evoking Hitchcock all the way in his adaptation, Scorsese pits an erstwhile but unhinged DiCaprio against the Machiavellian workings of Kingsley, the latter giving his best performance in a long while. Scorsese clearly appreciates that horror grounded in reality is all the more scary than supernatural horror, making for an excellently constructed horror drama. Breathtakingly brilliant.
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A story that's unhinged in a different way is the darkly hilarious I Love You Phillip Morris, which opens on a title card assuring the audience that "this really happened, it really did." It tells the apparently true story of Steven Russell, a Texan deputy cop who ups and leaves his wife and daughter behind to indulge his latent homosexuality after a near-death experience. Swiftly discovering that "being gay is really expensive" and becoming a conman in order to pay the bills, he's on a course for prison, where he meets the naive and sweet Phillip Morris. The pair fall in love, but find that Steven's compulsive criminal activities are keeping them apart as they flit in and out of prison over a number of years.

It's a Jim Carrey film, so it can go either way with in the lead role, but happily he's very good in this, pitching Steven with impeccable comic timing and occasionally allows him to be quite intense too. It's surprisingly understated, but he still manages to outshine everyone else in the cast. Ewan McGregor has finally stopped messing about with George Lucas and Dan Brown, and goes into Big Fish-mode in a role that's on the right track to jump-starting his career, and Leslie Mann is needy and memorable in her brief role, but it's definitely Carrey's film. And he carries it off well, not going too over-the-top, too po-faced or too caricatured. Indeed, the joke is never really at the expense of the gay-ness, except in one quite contrived sight gag involving Steven escaping prison disguised in a leopard-print mesh vest and red hotpants.

And what else would you expect from the writers of Bad Santa? Like that film, I Love You Phillip Morris mixes slapstick and the darkest brand of humour very well, making a highly irreverent and well-written comedy drama. Hell, it sort of counts as a romcom, so everyone go and see this at the weekend instead of The Bounty Hunter! Ewan McGregor makes a far better romantic lead than Jennifer Aniston anyway. It boasts what could be a career-best performance from Carrey- Eternal Sunshine and The Truman Show aside- and it's wickedly funny. A plot twist towards the end has to be seen to be believed, and it's an audacious film that's really worth the price of admission, whatever you may think of the tentative approach of marketing to the lowest-common denominator with the trailers.

Is any of this what I said when I foolishly volunteered a phone-in review to Kermode and Mayo's Film Reviews earlier this afternoon? Nope, because with a minute's notice before I went on air, I was more than a little flustered, and I enacted a poor impression of Steven, backed by a fleeting chorus of seagulls. Think of how I described my encounter with David Morrissey from a few weeks ago, then thrust it into the ears of a million BBC Five Live listeners. If you want to know the likely reason that I don't do video or podcast reviews, listen here for the next week, from around 56 minutes in. A video of my greatest wittertainment blunders (yes, more than one) may be forthcoming.
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If you've seen Shutter Island or I Love You Phillip Morris, why not share your views on the films and/or on my reviews (even the rubbish one) in the comments below. The weekend holds viewings of Green Zone and Old Dogs, and I might even go and endure The Bounty Hunter. Anything Gerard Butler found "laugh-out-loud" can't be all bad, right? Right?!

I'm Mark the mad prophet, and until next time, don'twatchanythingIwouldn'twatch (CAW CAW)