Shelter: Another solid Jason Statham thriller

Shelter (2026) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for violence and profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 2.1.26

Check your dictionary for the word “laconic,” and you’ll find a photo of Jason Statham.

 

He has perfected the role of Hard-Bitten Loner, a guy whose penetrating, steely eyed gaze invariably is accompanied by a scowl that (and only Statham can pull this off) forever seems on the verge of softening into a thin, mocking smile.

 

Fleeing both local police and a stop-at-nothing assassin, Mason (Jason Statham) and
Jesse (Bodhi Rae Breathnach) scramble to find a working vehicle, as a means of escape.

His newest action thriller is a solid piece of spyjinks, thanks to Ward Parry’s intriguing script, Matthew Newman’s rat-a-tat editing, and director Ric Roman Waugh’s taut direction. This puppy moves.

But not immediately. Things begin quietly.

 

Mason (Statham) lives an isolated existence on a tiny, rocky lighthouse island off Scotland’s Outer Hebrides. His only companion is a soft-eyed dog with no name. Mason passes the time by gazing out to sea from the top of his lighthouse, playing chess against himself, consuming constant meals of porridge … and often drinking himself to sleep.

 

Supplies are delivered, on a regular basis, by a similarly grizzled fellow (Michael Shaeffer) who brings his small fishing vessel as close as possible; he then sends his niece, Jesse (Bodhi Rae Breathnach), to shore in a rowboat. This ritual apparently has been unchanged for a long time; she drops off a crate filled with provisions, collects the now-empty previous crate, and returns to her uncle.

 

This time, however, she impulsively leaves a small, gift-wrapped package atop the newly delivered crate.

 

It remains unopened, when she returns the next time. She confronts Mason; he closes the door in her face.

 

Alas, she doesn’t make it back to her uncle’s boat this time. The sea has turned rough, thanks to an approaching storm; Mason watches, in horror, as both boats are swallowed by waves. He manages to rescue Jesse, but her uncle drowns. She’s injured, with a badly sprained ankle.

 

Jesse tearfully reveals that her uncle was her sole family; she has lost everything. As the next few days pass, Mason — despite himself — cannot maintain his gruff reserve.

 

Meanwhile…

 

In London, MI6 head Stefen Manafort (Bill Nighy) is grilled by an oversight committee, regarding his deployment of an all-encompassing AI surveillance network — Total Human Engagement Analytics, or THEA — which scoops up data from every possible source: the ubiquitous street cameras, car cameras, smart phones and anything else in the “connectivity of everything.”

 

Manafort blandly assures the committee chair that THEA has allowed MI6 to enhance the elimination of potential terrorist activity; she sternly counters that surreptitiously harvesting the data of every British citizen is, well, illegal. (He clearly couldn’t care less.)

That Christmas: No coal in this stocking!

That Christmas (2024) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG, for mild rude humor

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang

Christmas movies have become an explosive growth industry, usually with lamentable results; most have the cookie-cutter plot of a Harlequin romance novel, and the lingering impact of a snowflake on a slushy afternoon.

 

The extremely anxious Sam, foreground right, worried that she'll blow her lines in this
rather unusual school Christmas play, fails to notice that Danny — helplessly trapped
in a chickpea costume — worships the ground on which she walks.

I’ve not seen a truly memorable new Christmas movie since 2011’s Arthur Christmas ... until now.

Trust our British cousins to strike gold again.

 

Director Simon Otto’s animated charmer is adapted from three best-selling children’s books by author Richard Curtis and illustrator Rebecca Cobb: That Christmas, The Empty Stocking and Snow Day. Curtis also is well known as the writer and/or director of Four Weddings and a Funeral, Love Actually and Pirate Radio, among others.

 

He collaborated on this film adaptation with co-scripter Peter Souter, and the result is totally delightful ... and slyly subversive. Curtis also brought along several of his actor buddies, to voice these characters: icing on the cake.

 

As is typical of Curtis' stories, numerous character arcs intertwine and revolve around loneliness, dashed expectations, unrequited love and rebels with a cause.

 

The setting is the picturesque seaside village of Wellington-on-Sea, which — as related by Santa Claus (Brian Cox), looking back on past events — recently endured what is remembered as that Christmas, when a huge blizzard challenged the close-knit families and their children.

 

(Curtis based this community on a portion of East England’s Suffolk, where he lives.)

 

But all initially is boisterous and fun, a few days before that ill-fated holiday, thanks to energetic and progressively minded young Bernadette (India Brown), director of the annual school Christmas play. She’s determined to abandon stodgy Biblical tradition and shake things up with some gender equality and earth-friendly touches, in an original script called Three Wise Women.

 

Her cast includes identical twin girls Charlie (Sienna Sayer) and Sam (Zazie Hayhurst); the former is a bold, mischievous prankster who never cleans her half of their shared bedroom, the latter a forever worried over-thinker who is the “good girl” yin to her twin’s “bad” yang. 

 

Introverted newcomer Danny Williams (Jack Wisniewski) lives with his recently divorced single mother (Jodie Whittaker); he’s frequently left alone, because she accepts double work shifts in order to make ends meet. They “communicate” via her endless stream of Post-it notes (a cute touch, with a great third-act payoff).

 

Danny also is deeply in love with Sam, but can’t work up the courage to even talk to her.

 

“I’m shy, and she’s anxious,” he laments, early on. “It’s hopeless.”

The Wild Robot: An animated treasure

The Wild Robot (2024) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG, for action, peril and dramatic intensity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.29.24

This is most sumptuously gorgeous animated film I’ve seen in years.

 

That’s surprising, given that it comes from the American Dreamworks Animation team; the verdant, sparkling look is much more typical of Tokyo’s Studio Ghibli. Indeed, in the production notes, director Chris Sanders described his film’s visual style as “a Monet painting in a Miyazaki forest.”

 

ROZZUM Unit 7134, renamed Roz (left), and Fink (right) contemplate the helpless
little gosling that has imprinted itself upon the large robot.

Image isn’t everything, of course, but recalling that Sanders co-directed and co-wrote Lilo & Stitch and How to Train Your Dragon — both of which earned well-deserved Oscar nominations, for stories concerning species alien to each other, who learn to come together for the greater good — I had no doubt that he was just the right person to adapt Peter Brown’s popular 2016 middle-grade book.

Sanders solos this time, as both director and scripter; purists will recognize that he has, um. “massaged” Brown’s story a bit. Even so, the book’s tone and spirit have been translated faithfully, along with the essential moral that has become even more relevant today: “Kindness is a survival skill.”

 

The setting is our Earth, somewhen in the distant future. A savage storm prompts some sort of crash, which catapults a large crate onto a distant island bereft of human activity. Curious otters, poking inside the partially shattered crate, accidentally activate its inhabitant: a large, flexible robot dubbed ROZZUM Unit 7134.

 

It’s a companion robot, designed to fulfill “any and all tasks” requested by human owners. Upon activation, it requires a task ... but nobody can assign one.

 

The robot is voiced by Lupita Nyong’o, whose sensitive performance here reminds anew that we’ve long needed an Oscar category for such work. Her clipped, metallic, somewhat childlike cadence is note-perfect, as the robot attempts to make sense of these unexpected surroundings.

 

Small animals flee from her; large animals attack her. One encounter proves catastrophic, when she’s knocked over a cliff and lands hard on a goose nest. The mother is killed, the nest destroyed ... except for one egg. When a close scan reveals life inside, the robot decides to protect it.

 

That initially proves difficult, thanks to a predatory red fox that wishes the egg for breakfast. When it unexpectedly hatches, the fox is equally content to swallow the gosling; the robot somehow senses that this would be ... well ... inappropriate.

The Beautiful Game: Earns a silver

The Beautiful Game (2024) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG-13 for profanity, drug references and fleeting partial nudity

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.26.24

The past couple of months have been quite educational, with respect to sport I’d never previously encountered: first adventure racing, in Arthur the King; and now the Homeless World Cup.

 

The bulk of England's Homeless World Cup team — from left, Jason (Sheyi Cole),
Cal (Kit Young), Nathan (Callum Scott Howells), Kevin (Tom Vaughan-Lawlor) and
Aldar (Robin Nazari) — watch with a blend of awe and disgust as their newest
teammate struts his stuff.

The latter is the public side of the Homeless World Cup Association, co-founded in 2001 by Mel Young and Harald Schmied, as a means of advocating for a global solution to homelessness. Players must be at least 16; have not taken part in previous Homeless World Cup tournaments; and be either homeless, asylum seekers, street vendors or active in drug/alcohol rehab treatment following homelessness.

The playing field follows the rules of street soccer, on a pitch 72-by-52 feet (as opposed to international soccer’s 110-120 by 70-80 yards). The result is a faster, high-action and high-scoring format. Annual tournaments began in 2003, until canceled by Covid; they resumed in 2023, with that year’s World Cup held right here in Sacramento. (Would that I had known!)

 

Writer Frank Cottrell Boyce has been trying to get his script made into a film for more than a decade; this heartwarming little film helmed by director Thea Sharrock is the long-awaited result. (In a total change of pace, she also directed Wicked Little Letters, also reviewed this week.)

 

Boyce’s characters are entirely fictitious, but the environment in which they’re placed — notably, the ramp-up to World Cup play, and the challenges faced by typical participants — is rigorously accurate. As a cherry on top, many of the players in non-speaking roles are former Homeless World Cup participants, who now are no longer homeless.

 

The story begins as Mal Bradley (Bill Nighy) — a retired footballer, now manager of England’s Homeless team — readies players for his 12th shot at top position, with this year’s tournament to be played in Rome. The team includes Nathan (Callum Scott Howells), Cal (Kit Young), Jason (Sheyi Cole), Aldar (Robin Nazari) and Kevin (Tom Vaughan-Lawlor). As the film begins, Mal persuades a reluctant Vinny (Micheal Ward) to complete the half-dozen.

 

This doesn’t go over well with the others, who’ve bonded during (we assume) several preceding months. Living down to their worst expectations, Vinny has a chip on his shoulder the size of Montana, and clearly believes himself superior to the others (which proves true, but is beside the point). Worse yet, Vinny contemptuously feels no need to acknowledge that there’s no “I” in “team,” and he rebuffs efforts at kumbaya friendliness.

 

In short, he’s a horse’s ass.

 

Living: A magnificent character study

Living (2022) • View trailer

Five stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, and too harshly, for suggestive material and fleeting nudity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.27.23 

If Bill Nighy were able to shift a single eyebrow, I’ve no doubt the resulting expression would convey a wealth of emotion.

 

He’s that good.

 

Williams (Bill Nighy) is surprised to find Margaret (Aimee Lou Wood) working as a
waitress at her new posting, knowing that she took the job under the belief that she'd
be an assistant manager.

His performance here, as a morose, quietly contemplative civil servant, is a masterpiece of nuance. Nighy’s dialogue is spare; when speaking, he brings a wealth of depth and significance to every word, every syllable. And even when silent, his posture and gaze convey everything we need to know about this man, at each moment.

 

Some actors are born to play a particular role, and I can’t imagine anybody but Nighy playing this one. It will, I’m sure, remain his crown jewel.

 

Director Oliver Hermanus and scripter Kazuo Ishiguro deliver a meticulously faithful adaptation of Akira Kurosawa’s 1952 classic, Ikiru, which in turn borrowed heavily from Leo Tolstoy’s 1886 novella, The Death of Ivan Ilyich. (All concerned also owe a significant debt to Charles Dickens’ Bleak House.)

 

The year is 1953, the setting London: still struggling to recover from the bombing raids of World War II. Mr. Williams (Nighy), a lonely widower known by colleagues as “The Old Man,” is head of one department in a multi-story government building laden with similar subdivisions, all of which work hard at having nothing to do with each other.

 

Which is to say, most of these nattily attired men are hardly working.

 

It’s a bureaucratic maze of “D-19s,” “K Stacks” and countless other forms and protocols, where suggestions, proposals, petitions and heartfelt entreaties go to die, after being shuttled between — as just a few examples — Parks, Planning, Cleansing & Sewage, and Public Works (the latter a deliciously ironic oxymoron).

 

Public Works is Williams’ department, and whenever a folder shuttles back into his hands, he places in amid countless others on his desk. “We can keep it here,” Nighy sighs, in a disinterested tone. “There’s no harm.”

 

Rest assured, it’ll never be viewed again.

 

All of this is a shock to idealistic newbie Peter Wakeling (Alex Sharp), who is dismayed to find a similar mountain of paper at his desk. Secretary Margaret Harris (Aimee Lou Wood), sympathetic to his first-day confusion, quietly advises Peter to maintain the height of his “skyscraper” of unfinished work, lest colleagues suspect him of “not having anything very important to do.”

Emma: Love's labours crossed

Emma (2020) • View trailer

Four stars. Rated PG, for brief partial nudity

By Derrick Bang 

Jane Austen, like Dickens and Shakespeare, never gets old.

 

Director Autumn de Wilde’s lavish adaptation of Emma was one of the early COVID casualties, initially scheduled for theatrical release in late February. The loss of that traditional debut is unfortunate, since the sumptuous efforts of cinematographer Christopher Blauvelt, production designer Kave Quinn and costume designer Alexandra Byrne screamed for a big-screen showcase.

 

The unworldly Harriet (Mia Goth, left) hangs — like a worshipful puppy — on every
morsel of guidance supplied by Emma (Anya Taylor-Joy). Alas, as we're destined to
learn, Emma isn't worthy of such trust.

The film’s arrival on HBO is nonetheless welcome, and Eleanor Catton’s faithfully droll screenplay works just as well on a home screen. But there’s no question the lavish estate settings would have been even more stunning in a darkened movie theater.

 

We’ve not had a straight American adaptation since the 1996 version with Gwyneth Paltrow in the lead role — and a nod to 1995’s Clueless, as a loose modern translation — so it’s definitely well past time to spend a few hours with Emma Woodhouse and her various friends, family and suitors.

 

Be advised: You may want to take notes, as quite a lot of characters are involved in this light-hearted period dramedy.

 

Anya Taylor-Joy is perfectly cast as the aristocratic Emma, not quite 21 years old, whose self-assurance is matched only by her determination to gift everybody with the benefit of her wisdom. Although culturally polished and well-intentioned, her inherent kindness often is overshadowed by a relentless tendency to meddle.

 

Indeed, her older sister’s brother-in-law, Mr. Knightley (Johnny Flynn, technically too young for the role), likely would call Emma insufferably arrogant … but he’s too polite and refined to do so. Instead, they bicker and banter in a manner that allows maximum exposure to Austen’s piquant and slightly snarky dialogue. (She was so far ahead of her time.)

 

As the story begins, Emma’s longtime friend and former governess, Miss Taylor (Gemma Whelan), has just “married well,” and become wife to the aristocratic Mr. Weston (Rupert Graves). Having initially introduced them to each other, Emma takes credit for this successful union, and — after returning home, to the family estate at Hartfield — decides that she’s a born matchmaker.

 

Her next “project”: new friend Harriet Smith (Mia Goth), a 17-year-old pupil at a nearby girl’s boarding school. (When she and her fellow students parade about in their scarlet coats — which occurs numerous times, as this film proceeds — one can’t help thinking of Ludwig Bemelmans’ Madeline, with its “…twelve little girls in two straight lines.”)

Sometimes Always Never: Absolutely!

Sometimes Always Never (2018) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, and much too harshly, for occasional sexual references
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.31.20

Fans of droll and quirk will love this slice of British whimsy; others are apt to find it much too precious and stylized.

Peter (Sam Riley, left) and his father Alan (Bill Nighy) "forgot" how to connect years ago;
they can't even bond over a game of Scrabble ... even though they're likely to play at
any moment, and in any setting.

Director Carl Hunter and writer Frank Cottrell Boyce clearly studied at the altar of Wes Anderson; Sometimes Always Never — debuting on Amazon Prime and other streaming platforms — has the mildly peculiar atmosphere and character eccentricity of (for example) Moonrise Kingdom and The Grand Budapest Hotel.

At the same time, Hunter and Boyce uncork a deeply — at times painfully — intimate story about grief, and the necessity of finding a way to move beyond tragedy.

We meet Alan (Bill Nighy) as he solemnly waits on a deserted Merseyside beach; he has arranged to meet his adult son, Peter (Sam Riley), for a day trip with a potentially fateful conclusion. Their relationship is wary and prickly. We sense that Peter long ago gave up trying to communicate meaningfully with his father, and for good reason; Alan’s cryptic comments and responses always seem three sentences behind, and in some entirely different conversation.

It gradually becomes clear that they’ve long been trying to find Alan’s other son, Michael — Peter’s older brother — who walked out of the house years ago, and hasn’t been seen or heard from since. They’re currently chasing down a faint lead: something one or both of them must’ve done many, many times before.

It proves fruitless … although, during their overnight stop at a twee B&B, they meet Margaret (Jenny Agutter) and Arthur (Tim McInnerny), a couple navigating their own, similar grief.

Back at home in Lancashire, Alan — a professional tailor who earned a comfortable living, and is the sole occupant of a well-appointed home — finds that he cannot stand to be alone. He therefore becomes an unannounced guest in Peter’s home, where he’s accepted graciously by the latter’s warm and cheerful wife, Sue (Alice Lowe). She seems to understand and accept her father-in-law’s aloofness and affectations in a way that Peter cannot.

On the other hand, Peter and Sue have given up trying to fathom their teenage son, Jack (Louis Healy), forever buried in front of his computer screen, playing an endless array of first-person shooter games. Jack gives up the bottom berth of his bunk bed, in order to accommodate Alan; what feels like an imposition blossoms into a connection bridged initially by their shared interest in games.

The Bookshop: A melancholy read

The Bookshop (2017) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG, for dramatic intensity
By Derrick Bang

Director/scripter Isabel Coixet coaxes moments of sublime cinematic poetry in her thoughtful adaptation of Penelope Fitzgerald’s spare 1978 novel; the setting and characters — the sense of time and place — have been lifted lovingly from the page.

Beware the practiced insincerity of aristocratic hauteur: Not yet realizing that she has
been suckered into the spider's web, Florence (Emily Mortimer, left) thanks Violet
(Patricia Clarkson) for being invited to so lavish a gathering.

It couldn’t have been easy, in this instant-gratification social media era, to convey the unique warmth and comfort that derive from settling down — with no sense of time — to enjoy an absorbing book.

But viewers anticipating a typically light-hearted slice of eccentric, small-town British whimsy — a droll turn along the lines of, say The Closer You Get or The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill But Came Down a Mountain — are in for an unpleasant shock. Fitzgerald had much darker, class-conscious fish to fry, and Coixet has honored the subtext that unflinchingly skewers the small-minded malice of old-world aristocrats who — fully aware that they’re an endangered species — are determined to ruin the lives of their “lessers.” Simply because they still can.

To be sure, Coixet wields a brush of many colors; portions of her film are amusing, at times even laugh-out-loud funny. But such levity is subtly, mercilessly asphyxiated by the machinations of cold, calculated villainy; this is dark drama, not romantic comedy, and you will not exit the theater with a smile.

The setting is the small, East Anglican coastal town of Hardborough, Suffolk; the year is 1959. Florence Green (Emily Mortimer), widowed since losing her husband during World War II, decides to open a bookshop in a damp, long-abandoned building known as Old House.

It’s not clear how long Florence has been in Hardborough, although she seems a recent arrival. On the one hand, many of the locals greet her pleasantly enough; she’s familiar with the community, and aware that Old House has lain dormant for seven years. And yet there’s also a sense that she exists slightly out of phase with many of the townsfolk, who remain wary in her presence.

We do get a sense that Florence has emerged from a long period of grief, newly emboldened to give Hardborough its first bookstore as a gift, and as a means of sharing the special sort of magic that Fitzgerald described so well: “A good book is the precious life-blood of a master-spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life, and as such it must surely be a necessary commodity.”

On a personal level, Florence intends the gesture as a means of preserving important memories of her husband: They met at a bookstore, and bonded over their shared devotion to its contents.

Her fatal mistake is the belief that this is a town that wants a bookstore, as much as she thinks it does.

Woe to those foolish enough to stroll public streets with their hearts worn so visibly on one sleeve: naïve idealists destined to become prey.

The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel: Second-rate

The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (2015) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rated PG, for mild profanity and sensuality
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.6.15

In this particular case, “second best” is ... merely OK.

It’s like visiting a friend you haven’t seen for a few years, only to discover that the friend has changed. And not for the better.

Able — if only for a moment — to forget the various issues plaguing his personal and
professional life, Sonny (Dev Patel, center) reflects on the warm bond he has established
with Muriel (Maggie Smith, at his immediate right).

The set-up is familiar, and therefore offers less of the first film’s delightful sense of discovery; the subplots are more contrived, giving a sense, at times, that all concerned are trying too hard; and Maggie Smith doesn’t get nearly as many of her deliciously piquant one-liners (echoing those she also flings so readily on TV’s Downton Abbey).

At 122 minutes, this sequel also is a bit long, and drags in spots.

Fortunately, familiarity isn’t an entirely bad thing. The entire cast has returned for this second outing, as have writer/director John Madden and co-scripter Ol Parker. They’re all seasoned pros, and while the ground on which they tread may be worn, they nonetheless step with alacrity.

There’s no question that the first Hotel’s success owes much to aging baby-boomers who tire of comic-book movies; we also can point to similarly delightful “aging relic” characters in recent films such as Quartet, Philomena, Pride and even the aforementioned Downton Abbey. Frankly, it’s refreshing to spend time with people who weren’t in diapers a mere decade ago.

That said, Madden and Parker shrewdly hedge their bets by including the much younger Dev Patel, even more familiar now, in the wake of his three-season run on HBO’s The Newsroom His Sonny Kapoor continues to be the hilariously over-enthusiastic glue that binds the residents of his Jaipur-based Exotic Marigold Hotel.

Patel also knows his way around a well-timed line delivery, and Sonny remains much like the dinner guest who invariably embarrasses himself, no matter what the conversational circumstances, by going one ill-advised sentence over the edge.

But poor Sonny endures more than his share of flustered setbacks in the second outing, and Patel struggles gamely to navigate these abnormal waters. That he mostly succeeds has more to do with his skill as an actor, than with the material with which he’s forced to work.

And “forced” seems the operative term. Much of the first film’s dynamic revolved around fish-out-of-water tension: the need for ex-pat Brits to navigate this exotic and wholly alien territory. Well, the territory has become comfortable, which means that Madden and Parker have to pull new narrative tricks out of their hats ... and the strain is noticeable.

Pride: A British charmer with a lot to say

Pride (2014) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated R, and quite stupidly, for occasional sexual candor and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.10.14

British filmmakers excel at their signature blend of whimsy, gentle drama, sharp social commentary and (sometimes) misfit romance.

Wrap it around a slice of actual history, and the result can be irresistible.

Mineworkers rep Dai (Paddy Considine, second from right) sympathetically explains the
difficulties inherent in a proposal presented by, from left, Jeff (Freddie Fox), Mark (Ben
Schnetzer), Steph (Faye Marsay), Mike (Joseph Gilgun) and Joe (George MacKay).
Potential discomfort aside, though, Mark and the rest aren't about to let conservative
concerns get in the way of a great idea.

Truly, I think the Brits invented, perfected and patented a wholly unique genre: one that deserves its own name. I vote for Brimsy.

Examples that leap to mind include Calendar Girls, Brassed Off, Kinky Boots, Made in Dagenham and, perhaps the most successful, Billy Elliot. Not yet released on these shores is One Chance; meanwhile, we can enjoy the sweet, charming and frequently funny Pride.

Director Matthew Warchus and first-time scripter Stephen Beresford have set their dramedy against the debilitating 1984 UK mineworkers strike, which pitted stubborn and increasingly desperate blue-collar workers — and their families — against a resolutely defiant Margaret Thatcher. That this grim scenario yielded an unlikely social miracle, back in the day, is surprise enough; better still is the clever, engaging and joyously triumphant manner in which Warchus and Beresford have turned it into a droll, feel-good film.

The action begins as the shy and soft-spoken Joe (George MacKay), 20 years old and deeply closeted, travels from his suburban Bromley home in order to witness a Gay Pride march in London. He can’t help getting swept up by events; before he knows it, he has become part of a small but rowdy cluster of activists who meet regularly at a Soho bookstore run by the wildly flamboyant Jonathan Blake (Dominic West) and his quieter Welsh partner, Gethin (Andrew Scott).

The group is led, more or less, by the charismatic Mark Ashton (Ben Schnetzer), a hard-charging agitator forever seeking a new means of getting their message across. His newest scheme is purely altruistic: Inspired by newspaper headlines that continue to vilify the striking mineworkers, Mark points out that — sexual orientation aside — their plights are quite similar. Gays know what it’s like to be misunderstood, hated and harassed by jeering figures of authority (i.e. cops).

Why not strike a blow for solidarity, then, by raising funds to help the strikers?

The resulting grass-roots organization — Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners (LGSM) — faces an uphill struggle, first from friends and peers who believe it far more important to raise money for gay rights. But the fledging group persists, only to encounter a bigger problem: No official mineworkers entity wants anything to do with them, regardless of the offered money in hand.

Refusing to be beaten, Mark and his gang bypass union bureaucracy and randomly select the small Welsh mining town of Onllwyn, in the Dulais Valley. They liaise with Dai (Paddy Considine), an uncertain but open-minded resident and local mineworkers rep who agrees to visit London and face the dubious, mildly hostile audience in a gay nightclub.

To everybody’s surprise, Dai’s heartfelt gratitude encourages the crowd, particularly when he mentions that their union symbol — two hands clasped in solidarity — does, indeed, refer to all willing comrades.

About Time: Needs more ripening

About Time (2013) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rating: R, and quite stupidly, for fleeting profanity and mild sensuality
By Derrick Bang

At first blush, this fantasy rom-com seems to be about young love, and finding the perfect soul-mate.

Or maybe it’s a cautionary tale about missed opportunities.

Tim (Domhnall Gleeson, left) can't begin to grasp what his father (Bill Nighy) has just
confessed: that the men in their family have the ability to travel backwards in time.
Very soon, though, Tim will realize that he does indeed share this incredible talent ...
and he'll have plenty of fun — and not a little heartbreak — trying to get a handle
on what he can and cannot do.

No, wait, it might be a parable on the importance of embracing every single moment of life’s precious gift.

In the final analysis, though, writer/director Richard Curtis’ deeply personal film focuses on the indestructible — and loving — bond between fathers and sons. And alla that other stuff mentioned above.

One can’t help feeling that this is a valentine to Curtis’ own father: either a celebration of a happy relationship with the elder Curtis (who recently died), or a heartfelt wish that they could have enjoyed the affectionate bond that links this story’s Tim Lake (Domhnall Gleeson) and his father (Bill Nighy).

Which is interesting, since this bittersweet film is being marketed as a sweet, whimsical love story between Tim and Mary (Rachel McAdams). One gets the sense that Universal Pictures is approaching this publicity campaign very warily, not quite certain whether this creature is fish or fowl.

About Time is about all the elements cited above, of course, which is both its greatest virtue and underlying curse. As often is the case with a filmmaker’s long-gestating pet project, Curtis can’t quite get a handle on how best to articulate this unusual saga; as a result, his film wanders a bit, even stumbles at times.

This slightly unfocused approach is surprising — and disappointing — given that Curtis so unerringly kept a few dozen infatuated characters spinning quite successfully in his 2003 masterpiece, Love, Actually. This new film, in contrast, offers dozens of sparkling little moments, all charming in their own right, which wind up being greater than the sum of their parts.

And once we reach the climax, complete with a moral delivered with all the formality of a fable from Aesop, Curtis doesn’t know how to conclude; he stutters his way through a lengthy, didactic epilogue that dilutes much of what came before. We’re clearly intended to be left with a sense of radiant joy over life’s endless possibilities, but instead — at best — we part with Shakespeare’s sweet sorrow.

At worst, with deep regret over our own missed opportunities. Probably not the mood Curtis intended.

Total Recall: Thanks for the memories

Total Recall (2012) • View trailer
3.5 stars. Rating: PG-13, and quite generously, for intense, relentless violence and action, brief nudity, sexual content and profanity
By Derrick Bang

Whatever else may be true, this sucker moves.

Ultimately, a bit too much.

Douglas Quaid (Colin Farrell) thinks he is about to experience a
harmless, James Bond-ian fantasy that he'll retain as a pleasant
memory. Alas, reality is about to trump fantasy, when Quaid discovers
that his life as a blue-collar factory worker isn't quite as "real" as he
has been led to believe.

Director Len Wiseman’s remake of Total Recall starts well and has much to recommend it, most notably plenty of striking production design and not one, not two, but three imaginative, cleverly filmed and all-stops-out chase scenes.

Unfortunately, the frantic pace grows tiresome after that third pursuit, particularly since we’re only halfway through the film by then. Wiseman and a veritable gaggle of scripters — Kurt Wimmer, Mark Bomback, Ronald Shusett, Dan O’Bannon and Jon Povill — simply don’t know when to let up.

This film suffers from the same problem that derailed the second Indiana Jones epic (Temple of Doom): all chases and furious activity, with almost no respite. The characters never get a chance to catch their breath, and neither do we. Successful action flicks alternate between pell-mell activity and quieter moments: the latter for reflection, plot advancement and perhaps some tension-easing quips.

Wiseman’s update of Total Recall is almost without humor, grim or otherwise. While it’s true that Arnold Schwarzenegger’s outsized presence and personality overwhelmed the 1990 version, at least he cracked wise now and again. This remake’s Colin Farrell barely gets a chance to smile.

Let it be said, as well, that this new version doesn’t stray any closer to the Philip K. Dick story — “We Can Remember It for You Wholesale” — on which both films are (very) loosely based. The reality-bending premise is present, as is the notion that our hero’s “false” memories might be genuine (or not) (or not not). Beyond that, Wimmer & Co. have grafted an entirely new narrative atop this mind-twisting concept.

Not a bad thing, to be sure, and this new version takes far greater pains to establish its credible future dystopia: all the more reason to be annoyed when the frenzied melees prevent our being better immersed in what seem to be fascinating background details.

The time is a century or so in the future, after chemical warfare has poisoned the majority of our planet. Only two nation-states have survived: the upscale United Federation of Britain, and the blue-collar “Colony” — formerly Australia — on the opposite end of the globe. Colony resident Douglas Quaid (Farrell) commutes daily to a grinding factory job in Britain, where he helps build robotic policeman on an assembly line.