A Haunting in Venice: Gothic nonsense

A Haunting in Venice (2023) • View trailer

2.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for strong violence and dramatic intensity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.15.23

Agatha Christie must be spinning in her grave.

 

I can’t fault Kenneth Branagh for wanting to play her famed Belgian detective again; it’s a great role, and Branagh fills Hercule Poirot’s patent leather shoes with a delightful blend of aristocratic condescension and shrewd, sharp-eyed deductive analysis. It’s always fun to watch Poirot’s narrow gaze scrutinize the comparative heights of his twin breakfast soft-boiled eggs.

 

Hercule Poirot (Kenneth Branagh) initially has no interest in the challenge offered by
longtime friend Ariadne Oliver (Tina Fey). But his curiosity eventually is piqued, and
he agrees to tag along for what becomes a most unusual evening.

But must Branagh continue to work with scripter Michael Green?

Green’s repeated efforts to “improve upon” Christie’s meticulously crafted novels ran 2017’s Murder on the Orient Express off the rails, and his 2022 disembowelment of Death on the Nile went under not only for the third time, but also the fourth and fifth.

 

This time out, Green doesn’t even try to adapt Christie’s Hallowe’en Party. The only thing this film has in common with her 1969 novel is the presence of one character, and he treats her in a manner that will enrage the celebrated author’s fans.

 

Why adapt a famous author’s book, if you’re just going to ruin it?

 

Matters aren’t helped by the fact that Branagh — who also directs — and cinematographer Haris Zambarloukos allowed their Gothic sensibilities to run amuck. Branagh’s third Poirot outing is a classic example of style over substance: cockeyed camera angels, darkened hallways, smash-cut close-ups of worried expressions, Hildur Guönadóttir’s shrieking score, and the repeated squawking distraction of a cockatoo that swoops into numerous scenes for no good reason … all of which do nothing to conceal Green’s clumsy plot.

 

The setting is Venice in 1947, as Italy struggles to rebuild itself. Ten years have passed since the events in Death on the Nile, a decade has left Poirot disheartened by the fact that another generation found itself in a war even worse, in some respects, than the “Great War” he endured during his younger days. Poirot has retired and retreated behind the gates of a Venetian appartamento; he employs a bodyguard, Vitale (Riccardo Scamarcio), to dissuade anybody wishing to engage his detective services.

 

Even so, Poirot tolerates a visit from longtime associate Ariadne Oliver (Tina Fey), a mystery novelist who has based her series character on him. She offers a puzzle: a supposed medium, Joyce Reynolds (Michelle Yeoh), whose “performance” at a recent séance left her baffled. Ariadne, inclined to accept the notion of communication with the dead, believes that if Mrs. Reynolds can convince Poirot that she’s the “real deal,” then the result will be a certain best-seller about “the woman who stumped Hercule Poirot.”

 

(It must be mentioned that, in Christie’s canon, Ariadne is a friend who helps Poirot in seven novels, and would never, ever bait him so callously. But we move on…)

 

Clearly stung by the notion that he could be fooled by such an obvious charlatan, Poirot accepts the challenge. The setting for the next séance proves foreboding: the crumbling palazzo owned by retired opera singer Rowena Drake (Kelly Reilly). The place is believed haunted by the ghosts of young orphans who met a terrible fate therein, decades earlier.

 

Worse yet, it’s also where Rowena’s beloved daughter Alicia died one year ago, having apparently jumped from her upstairs bedroom window and drowned in the canal below.

 

It also happens to be Halloween. A particularly stormy and wind-swept Halloween. What could be better?

Heart of Stone: Sinks just like one

Heart of Stone (2023) • View trailer

2.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for action violence and brief profanity

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang

An original thought would die of loneliness in this film’s derivative script.

 

Gal Gadot can’t be blamed for wanting to strike while her star wattage is bright, but she should choose her projects more carefully. 

 

The calm before the storm: This seasoned MI6 team — from left, Bailey (Paul Ready),
Rachel (Gal Gadot), Parker (Jamie Dornan) and Yang (Jing Lusi) — will encounter
serious trouble after arriving in Lisbon.

I’ve also long been wary of poor title credits, as it’s almost always a sign of equally bad things to come … and this film has truly terrible opening credits.

In fairness, it’s not the worst way to spend two hours, for undiscriminating fans of kick-ass spyjinks. But scripters Greg Rucka and Allison Schroeder begged, borrowed or stole everything here from superior predecessors … and director Tom Harper’s over-reliance on sub-par CGI doesn’t help.

 

Gadot stars as Rachel Stone, the “mousy” tech member of an MI6 team that includes experienced agents Parker (Jamie Dornan), Yang (Jing Lusi) and Bailey (Paul Ready). They’re introduced during a mission taking place at a ski resort atop a mountain in Italy’s Alpin Arena Senales, tasked with “extracting” Mulvaney (Enzo Cilenti), “Europe’s most wanted arms dealer,” who has surfaced for the first time in three years.

 

Careful planning goes slightly awry, so Rachel is forced to improvise in the field — much to her colleagues’ concern — by getting close enough to clone a baddie’s cell phone. Then things really go wrong, due to the intervention of a mysterious young woman (Alia Bhatt) who is following a different agenda.

 

Rachel therefore is forced to display her true talents as a seasoned member of The Charter, code-named Nine of Hearts: a hyper-capable agent embedded in this team without the knowledge of anybody in MI6. She saves the day — while taking care not to be seen doing so, by her three colleagues — thanks to off-site assistance by Jack of Hearts (Matthias Schweighöfer) and “The Heart,” an immersive, quantum computer AI interface capable of split-second judgment calls based on the highest probability of success.

 

Think Waze or any other satellite navigation system on steroids, able to alert Rachel to human hazards, in addition to feeding her geographical telemetry via special goggles. Suddenly need a snow bike or parachute? The Heart will guide Rachel appropriately.

 

The Charter, divided into four teams code-named for the 52 cards in a deck, is an off-books organization whose agents clandestinely step in “where governments fail.” (That’s a phrase we’ve heard before.)

 

The fact that Rachel has concealed her actual talents for four years — particularly from Parker, Yang and Bailey — seems a bit of a stretch, but we gotta roll with it. The greater good is paramount, as the King of Hearts (Sophie Okonedo) stiffly informs Rachel, during a subsequent de-briefing (a lecture we’ve also heard many times before).

Belfast: Deeply moving snapshot of a nation in crisis

Belfast (2021) • View trailer

Five stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for violence and profanity

Available via: Movie theaters, Amazon Prime and other streaming services

By Derrick Bang

Armed with an impressive seven Academy Award nominations, Kenneth Branagh’s riveting, semi-autobiographical drama has just become available via streaming services.

 

This is must-see cinema.

 

Buddy (Jude Hill, his back to camera) listens quietly while his mother (Caitriona Balfe),
grandmother (Judi Dench) and grandfather (Ciarán Hinds) explain what has been
happening in their neighborhood.

It isn’t easy to layer an era of chaos, tumult and danger with warmth and humor, and Branagh — who wrote the script, as well as directing — has done so sublimely. He wisely followed John Boorman’s lead, who in 1987’s Hope and Glory similarly depicted the horrors he experienced as a child in London during World War II.

In this case, Branagh’s quasi-surrogate self is 9-year-old Buddy, played with beguiling innocence and impishness by Jude Hill, in a stunning feature film debut. Because this story is viewed through Buddy’s experiences and imagination, Hill is in practically every scene, and he capably carries the film; he’s beyond adorable. 

 

Branagh extracts an amazingly accomplished and nuanced performance from this young lad. It’s a crime that he didn’t secure a Best Actor nod to accompany all the other well-earned nominations.

 

Cinematographer Haris Zambarloukos opens with an imposing, full-color overview of today’s Belfast. We then slide into a crowded, working-class pocket neighborhood; the image turns monochromatic as we’re whisked back to the summer of 1969. Children play merrily in the sun-dappled streets; adults chat amiably while walking to and from the little shops nestled in between row houses.

 

Everybody knows everybody else. When Buddy’s Ma (Caitriona Balfe) calls him in for tea, the message is passed along via children and adults until it finally reaches him. 

 

Then, suddenly, anarchy: An angry mob rounds a street corner like a swarm of maddened bees, laying waste to homes, shop windows, vehicles and anything else in their path … with a focus on Catholic families. It’s the opening salvo of the five-day political and sectarian violence that quickly spread through Ireland and led to the 30-year conflict dubbed “The Troubles.”

 

Buddy, terrified, stands frozen like a deer caught in headlights. We see the disconnect in his gaze; the boy cannot begin to comprehend the savage reality of what’s happening.

 

In that instant, his life — and that of his family, and everybody else — is altered. Forever. The calm of sociable neighborliness has been shattered, never to return; Catholic and Protestant families, once close friends, now eye each other warily. (Buddy and his family are Protestants.)

 

In the aftermath, streets are barricaded; watchers are posted 24/7. Buddy’s universe — this tiny portion of Northern Belfast — has become an artificial island.

 

Wild Mountain Thyme: A charming romantic fable

Wild Mountain Thyme (2020) • View trailer

3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, and needlessly, for "suggestive content"

By Derrick Bang 

Lovers of British whimsy likely will embrace this leisurely romantic comedy — available via video-on-demand — which takes an Irish approach to the conventional formula.

 

Rosemary (Emily Blunt) has loved Anthony (Jamie Dornan) ever since they were 10 years
old. Now in their mid-30s, with so much time already behind them, she wonders if he'll
ever be brave enough to ask her hand in marriage.

Given the Irish setting and poetic spirit, writer/director John Patrick Shanley’s gentle little fable — which he adapted from his 2014 Broadway play, Outside Mullingar — naturally involves an element of loss, and is fueled by the beloved, melancholy Celtic folk song that gives his film its title.

 

The mood is established immediately by off-camera narrator Tony Reilly (Christopher Walken), who explains — as cinematographer Stephen Goldblatt’s camera swoops above the wild, amazingly green, stunningly gorgeous Irish countryside — “They say, if an Irishman dies while he’s telling a story, you can rest assured, he’ll be back.”

 

Seriously, how can you resist an opening like that?

 

Anthony Reilly (Jamie Dornan) and Rosemary Muldoon (Emily Blunt) have lived on neighboring farms their entire lives, and she has loved him unreservedly since they were 10 years old. Everybody in their closely knit farming community knows they’re meant for each other … except Anthony.

 

He’s an eccentric, tongue-tied introvert who — fearing that he’s “tetched” — believes himself unlovable. He steadfastly works the family farm, having taken over all chores and responsibilities from his aging father Tony, who nonetheless irascibly grumbles that his son “doesn’t have what it takes.”

 

To a significant degree, Tony is nettled by Anthony’s unwillingness to get on with it, and marry Rosemary, fercryinoutloud. She, in turn — her feisty, independent nature notwithstanding — patiently waits for Anthony to come to his senses. (“Romeo’s not able to climb the balcony,” Shanley muses, in the press notes, “and Juliet won’t come down.”)

 

Tony also grouses about the fact that their farm is blocked by two gates that enclose a little strip of road owned by the Muldoons: which is to say, it’s necessary to open and close those gates every time one enters or leaves the Reilly farm. 

 

The death of Rosemary’s father Chris — who spent his entire life “at war with the crows” — proves a catalyst of sorts. Rosemary’s mother Aoife (Dearbhla Molloy) is bereft, and Tony senses that his own time on Earth is drawing to a close. Something needs to be done, and so he makes a decision that dismays everybody: He announces his intention to sell the family farm to his American nephew, Adam (Jon Hamm).

 

The 9th Life of Louis Drax: Deserves a quick death

The 9th Life of Louis Drax (2016) • View trailer 
Two stars. Rated R, for dramatic intensity and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang

Those who’ve ever wondered about the degree to which a single guiding hand can influence a project, need look no further.

By all indications, young Louis (Aiden Longworth) and his father Peter (Aaron Paul) deeply
love each other. But appearances can be deceiving, and this particular family dynamic
includes quite a few uncomfortable secrets.

This is a textbook example of how a bad director can ruin a film.

Mind you, there’s plenty of blame to go around. Several of the primary actors deliver entirely wrong readings of their characters; the story’s overall tone is completely wrong; and there’s no consistent point of reference for viewers to grasp.

But while multiple individuals can be faulted, it all comes down to the guy in charge, in this case Alexandre Aja. He failed to draw better performances from his cast; he couldn’t maintain a consistent atmosphere; and — most crucially — he clearly didn’t understand the material, and didn’t have the faintest idea how to present it properly.

Because — and this is the sad part — there’s clearly a decent story buried in the wreckage of this film. Actor-turned-scripter Max Minghella took a respectable shot at best-selling British author Liz Jensen’s 2004 thriller, The Ninth Life of Louis Drax, and the results could have been much, much better. But Aja’s crude sensibilities lie in the realm of gory horror such as Piranha 3D and the remake of The Hills Have Eyes; he lacks the sensitivity required for a tale that requires such delicate handling.

In fairness, the premise is challenging. The story is told (mostly) from the point of view of a 9-year-old boy in a hospital coma ward, and Aja spends much of the film immersing us in the ongoing care of coma patients; that’s a tough, depressing sell. It may have been mostly unusual and intriguing in Jensen’s book; confronted with cinematic visuals, it’s heartbreaking ... and difficult to surmount, as the narrative progresses.

But Aja makes his first significant blunder even sooner, during a prologue in which young Louis (Aidan Longworth) matter-of-factly shares his back-story, growing up as an accident-prone kid who — to his parents’ horror — endured all manner of freak calamities during his tender years. This weird flashback montage is off-putting and fairy tale-esque, with cartoonish touches that suggest we’re in for some sort of fantasy: a notion reinforced by the introduction of a grotesque, deep-voiced sea creature who seems to be the boy’s spirit guide.

But this isn’t a fairy tale, or a parable, as eventually becomes clear; it’s a mystery. Sort of. Maybe. Or perhaps it’s a suspense thriller. Aja obviously can’t decide.

Anthropoid: Grim, fact-based war drama

Anthropoid (2016) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated R, for violence and dramatic intensity
By Derrick Bang

Terrible title, taut thriller.

And historical authenticity doesn’t necessarily justify the choice. Nor does historical authenticity conceal another issue.

Having parachuted into Czechoslovakia only the night before, Jan Kubiš (Jamie Dornan,
left) and Josef Gabčík (Cillian Murphy) steal a truck in order to reach Prague, where they are to
link up with resistance fighters

To cite another recent example ... despite the care with which 2000’s The Perfect Storm was assembled, I couldn’t overcome the core paradox:

Sebastian Junger’s book — and, thus, William D. Wittliff’s screenplay — were based on an actual event that left no survivors. Ergo, everything we watched was no more than an educated presumption of what actually happened: a narrative conceit that can’t help pulling us out of the story at every significant juncture.

This is never a problem with dramatic fiction, which allows us to simply go with the flow; we accept the saga on its own merits. But no matter how persuasively George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg delivered their dialogue — no matter how heroically they behaved — it was impossible to accept things at face value. Were the men in question really that brave? Actually that selfless?

Similar questions emerge during the course of Anthropoid, director Sean Ellis’ often gripping account of a World War II incident that forever changed the fate of Czechoslovakia, and quite likely altered the direction of the entire war. Ellis and co-writer Anthony Frewin have developed their script from what is known about “Operation Anthropoid,” and while the clandestine mission’s preparation and outcome are the stuff of recorded history, much of this storyline can’t be any better than speculation.

Whether that’s vexing enough to be an issue, will be up to the individual viewer. It’s easy to imagine that things may have gone down this way, and that might be sufficient. Ellis certainly draws persuasive performances from most of his cast — with one unfortunate exception — and there’s no denying the suspenseful nobility inherent in WWII resistance fighters who risked everything to thwart Nazi advances.

The film begins in December 1941, three years after the Allies’ notorious “Munich Agreement”: the act of appeasement that passively allowed Hitler to take over Czechoslovakia without a shot being fired. Two soldiers from the London-based Czechoslovakian army-in-exile — Jan Kubiš (Jamie Dornan) and Josef Gabčík (Cillian Murphy) — parachute back into their occupied homeland, and carefully make their way to the few individuals who remain in the underground resistance.

Fifty Shades of Grey: Colorless

Fifty Shades of Grey (2015) • View trailer 
One star. Rated R, for strong sexual content, profanity and considerable nudity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 2.13.15

While it’s certainly true that this film is better than the atrociously written book on which it’s based, that’s damning with very faint praise.

Because this film still is a stinker.

Hunky gazillionaire Christian Grey (Jamie Dornan) makes Anastasia (Dakota Johnson) an
offer she absolutely should refuse: to become his "submissive" during a brief "relationship"
that he promises won't include love. Hey, it's every girl's dream, right?

Dakota Johnson is reasonably persuasive as Anastasia Steele, the naïve, freshly minted college graduate who enters a web of sexual sin with a blend of curiosity, wariness and endearing, flirty innocence. Kelly Marcel’s screenplay also makes Ana smarter and spunkier than the dim-bulb imbecile of E.L. James’ so-called novel, who constantly talked and behaved as if she were 21 going on 12.

But Jamie Dornan is a total joke as billionaire, super-stud businessman Christian Grey. Dornan couldn’t act his way out of a snowball in hell; he actually makes Keanu Reeves look talented. Dornan is as uncomfortable in this role as his Grey is in his impeccably tailored clothes: stiff, awkward and wholly unconvincing.

Dornan’s line readings are the stuff of acting workshop nightmares ... although, in fairness, I’m not sure anybody could breathe credible life into this wooden dialogue.

Director Sam Taylor-Johnson has precisely two tricks up her sleeve, and she uses both to wretched excess: constant tight-tight-tight close-ups on her two stars, and instructions that they deliver every word with breathy, clipped, arched-eyebrow hesitation. Both affectations are the stuff of turgid afternoon TV soap operas, a level to which this film constantly sinks.

An over-reliance on tight close-ups minimizes a story’s sense of time and place; it’s also boring. Most significantly, it denotes a director who doesn’t trust her cast, the theory being that (for example) it’s easier for Dornan to emote if cinematographer Seamus McGarvey moves his camera close enough for us to count the pores on Christian Grey’s cheeks.

That’s the trouble with theories: Not all of them turn out to be true.

Taylor-Johnson has only one previous feature film to her credit: Nowhere Boy, 2009’s thoughtful biography of John Lennon’s early years. It’s leagues better than this dull, turgid, over-hyped and under-delivering mess.