I Came By: Enjoyably sinister

I Came By (2022) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated TV-MA, for violence, dramatic intensity and profanity

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang 

Writer/director Babak Anvari definitely studied at the altar of Alfred Hitchcock.

 

This twisty little thriller, co-scripted with Namsi Khan, messes with audience expectations much the way Psycho did, back in 1960.

 

After realizing that their latest "victim" isn't what he seems, Toby (George MacKay, right)
intends to investigate further ... but his best friend Jay (Percelle Ascott) wants
no part of that.

London-based graffiti artists Toby (George MacKay) and Jay (Percelle Ascott) have established a notorious reputation as late-night, never-identified home invaders who target the rich and powerful by painting their “I came by” tag on one wall: an act that’s less about vandalism or theft, and more a means of tweaking the establishment. 

(One suspects, however, that they’re not above nicking an item or two that catches their fancy.)

 

They’re quite adept, having learned how to pick locks and bypass home alarm systems; the adrenaline rush also is a major part of the thrill.

 

“Fighting the system” is all that Toby cares about, much to the dismay of his mother, Lizzie (Kelly Macdonald), a professional counselor who (irony intended) hasn’t the faintest idea how to connect with her own son. Toby, in turn, is rude and disrespectful, but also inclined to random acts of kindness; he isn’t beyond recognizing right from wrong.

 

Jay is brought up short when his girlfriend Naz (Varada Sethu) announces that she’s pregnant. This reality check prompts him to renounce his clandestine partnership with Toby, even though they’ve already cased their next victim: Sir Hector Blake (Hugh Bonneville), a former high court judge who lives alone in a large home in Dulwich.

 

Frustrated and feeling betrayed, Toby invades Sir Hector’s home on his own, prepares to tag a wall … and then is distracted by a noise from the basement. He heads downstairs, pokes around, and …

 

… but that would be telling.

 

Suffice to say, there may have been a reason Sir Hector suddenly resigned from the judiciary, after a sterling career spent helping immigrants.

 

The final key player in what soon becomes a sinister mystery is Det. Sgt. Ella Lloyd (Franc Ashman), who doesn’t need much convincing to decide that Sir Hector is a Rather Suspicious Character. But since his friends include her boss (Anthony Calf), her efforts to investigate are discouraged.

 

No question: The set-up is enticing, and the execution moves in crafty, edge-of-the-seat directions.

 

Munich — The Edge of War: Persuasive period espionage

Munich — The Edge of War (2021) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for profanity, dramatic intensity and brief violence

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang

British journalist-turned-novelist Robert Harris has written numerous works of suspenseful historical fiction, several of which have been transformed into equally tension-laden films; 2001’s Enigma and 2010’s The Ghost Writer immediately come to mind.

 

British Prime Minister Neville Chamerlain (Jeremy Irons, seated) goes over newspaper
reports of German activities with his aide and translator, Hugh Legat (George MacKay).

Director Christian Schwochow and scripter Ben Power have done an equally fine job with their adaptation of Munich. Their handling of this World War II-based nail-biter, thanks in great part to the way cinematographer Frank Lamm frames many of his shots, has the retro atmosphere of classic 1960s Cold War thrillers such as The Spy Who Came In from the Cold and The Ipcress File.

The result so cunningly blurs the line between fact and fiction, that it’s often difficult to determine which is which.

 

This story also has extremely disturbing parallels to current real-world events, which evoke Spanish philosopher George Santayana’s timeless quote: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

 

A brief prologue, set in 1932, introduces reserved Brit Hugh Legat (George MacKay) and passionate German Paul von Hartman (Jannis Niewöhner), who’ve bonded during their university years at Oxford. Both clearly love the impish Lenya (Liv Lisa Fries), although she’s probably too free-spirited for the buttoned-down Hugh.

 

Events shift to the autumn of 1938. Hugh has become a civil servant attached to British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain (Jeremy Irons), in offices also occupied by the latter’s principal private secretary, Sir Osmund Cleverly (Mark Lewis Jones); Permanent Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs Sir Alexander Cadogan (Nicholas Farrell); and senior government official Sir Horace Wilson (Alex Jennings).

 

(All, with the exception of Legat, are key historical figures.)

 

Paul has become a German diplomat and clandestine anti-Nazi. He and Hugh haven’t spoken or seen each other during the past several years (for reasons revealed in a later flashback).

 

Tension is high, because Adolf Hitler has mobilized forces at the Czech border, with the intention of claiming the Sudetenland, a region with 3 million Germans. Should this take place, the British and French will be forced to unite and defend the Czechs, plunging Europe into war.

 

With the horrors of World War I still fresh in every British citizen’s mind, this is not a desirable outcome.

1917: Absolutely amazing!

1917 (2019) • View trailer 
Five stars. Rated R, for considerable war violence, dramatic intensity and profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.10.20

Oh.

My.

Goodness.

Having made it through the harrowing horrors of No Man's Land, Lance Cpl. Schofield
(George MacKay, left) and Lance Cpl. Blake (Dean-Charles Chapman) marvel at the
artillery weapons and shells that have been abandoned on the German side of the front.

Director/co-writer Sam Mendes’ war drama isn’t merely a crackling suspenser that’ll keep you at the edge of your seat — hand at mouth — for every single moment of its 119-minute run.

It’s also one of the most visually audacious films ever made: a degree of stunning cinematic technical advancement on par with the dinosaurs that knocked our socks off, back in 1993’s Jurassic Park.

Everything you’ve heard about Mendes’ film is true; it’s that awesome.

The simple, pressure-cooker plot begins on April 6, 1917, deep within the Allied trenches in Northern France. The “Great War” has been raging since late July 1914, and will continue until November 1918; American forces have yet to arrive in Western Europe (although the United States officially declared war on Germany on this very day).

German forces have unexpectedly pulled back overnight, encouraging the Allies to mount an offensive and follow. But aerial photos have revealed this to be a ruse; the Germans have feigned this retreat to the Hindenburg Line, in order to ambush the pursuing Devonshire Regiment’s 1,600-man 2nd Battalion. 

Processing this from miles away, the 8th Battalion’s Gen. Erinmore (Colin Firth, in a brief appearance) realizes the result will be a slaughter. Phone lines are down; the only hope is to send messengers — on foot — through No Man’s Land and past the original German front, in order to alert the 2nd Battalion’s commanding officer, and call off the Allied attack … which is scheduled for the very next morning.

The mission falls to two young soldiers: Lance Cpl. Schofield (George MacKay, well remembered as the beleaguered eldest son in 2016’s Captain Fantastic) and Lance Cpl. Blake (Dean-Charles Chapman, a frequent face on HBO’s Game of Thrones). They have less than 24 hours to cover many dangerous miles.

Blake has an additional incentive: His older brother Joseph is a member of the 2nd Battalion.

Captain Fantastic: A thoughtful modern parable

Captain Fantastic (2016) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated R, for profanity and occasional chaste nudity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.22.16

Cannes winners can be obtuse, maddeningly weird and deadly dull; this is, after all, the film festival that bestowed a Palme d’Or upon 2011’s execrable Tree of Life.

Ben (Viggo Mortensen, center) and four of his children — from left, Bo (George MacKay),
Rellian (Nicholas Hamilton, partly obscured), Vespyr (Annalise Basso) and Kielyr
(Samantha Isler) — gather their most recent homemade craft goods, in anticipation of
a routine visit to the nearest trading post.

On the other hand, other entries are quirky, imaginative and unexpectedly endearing, as is the case with Captain Fantastic, which took this year’s Un Certain Regard Directing Prize and was nominated for the overall Un Certain Regard Award.

Matt Ross is best known as a busy television actor with ongoing roles in eccentric shows such as American Horror Story and Silicon Valley; he occasionally moonlights as a filmmaker. His big-screen feature debut — 2012’s 28 Hotel Rooms — didn’t amount to much, but Captain Fantastic is guaranteed to change his career. Ross’ sensitively calculated script is matched by his delicate direction; he’s also blessed with an ensemble cast that rises to this quite unusual occasion.

I never cease to be amazed, having spent so much time studying our century-old film medium, by the continuing emergence of fresh stories told in captivating ways. “Captain Fantastic” is unconventional and challenging, to be sure; but it’s also poignant, shrewdly perceptive and a subtly critical statement of our times. That’s a lot of subtext for an idiosyncratic little indie, but Ross pulls it off.

Mostly because, at its core, this also is a story of the love and loyalty that bonds a family: something everybody can relate to.

Our introduction to Ben Cash (Viggo Mortensen) and his six children is unexpected, to say the least: all seven of them mud-smeared, in order to blend into forest foliage while stalking a deer. It’s a bloody rite of passage for eldest son Bo (George MacKay), who brings down the creature with a knife. Ross doesn’t shy from the gore.

Neither do any of Bo’s siblings, down to youngsters Zaja (Shree Crooks) and Nai (Charlie Shotwell), who revel equally in this feral ritual. The carcass is taken home, skinned and dressed by 15-year-old twins Vespyr and Kielyr (Annalise Basso and Samantha Isler). Everybody washes up and tackles assigned chores, later assembling for rigorous calisthenics and a grueling run through the woods.

Later, after night has fallen, they gather around a crackling fire, quietly reading weighty books on science (Jared Diamond) and philosophy (Noam Chomsky), or challenging fiction such as George Eliot’s Middlemarch. Somehow sensing when his children have had enough, Ben teases a quiet song on his guitar; Bo joins him. Twelve-year-old Rellian (Nicholas Hamilton) displays a rebellious streak by inserting an aggressive drum beat; there’s a breathless moment, as his siblings wait to see how their father will handle this intrusion, but Ben smiles and modifies his own playing to follow the beat. The others, relieved, laugh and dance as the family makes music together.

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.