Nice wee proper slow-burning spy thriller here, with a magnificently creepy Ralph Fiennes cameo as the slippery PM trying to bury the dirt. It’s a movie of subtleties and you really need to pay attention to what the characters say, how they say it, and what they omit which you think they would say. Finely acted, tightly plotted, no irritating characters, well shot.
Worth a watch.
Despite my deep admiration for Denzel’s acting gifts, this movie is of little note, and I lost all interest with the central murder or anything that anyone was taking about. There’s not even a good thing about this; it is merely a copycat of Chinatown (1974).
It made no sense. The protagonist is in mortal danger yet keeps rocking back to the danger zone that is his house. Characters bubble away about how awful they have all been, but only when there’s a gun to their heads. Three goon cops – one of them Tom Sizemore – keep arriving with the same roughhouse antics over and over.
It was all just a pain to watch despite the perfectly fine performances. If it were even shot well I’d recommend it for something – but nah. Boring, boring, boring, more boring.
A boring film.
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‘Scorsese understands that moviegoers are essentially tourists: they want to get a glimpse of depravity but then retreat to the safety of their own humdrum lives. It’s not that Scorsese approves of the toxic masculinity that permeates his films. It’s just that toxic masculinity is a cornerstone of American life – and the public are fascinated by bad behaviour.’
Well ….
The weird behaviour of the extras and background actors in this is hilarious to watch, as is the entire movie. Cary Grant’s accent makes no sense, nor does the film. The rear projection is so bad that it can only be a Hitchcock joke. As entertainment, I enjoyed every moment of it, because it’s self-aware and self-deprecating, and most unpredictable.
I think the career of Hitch was just a case of him taking the piss out of people whilst brushing up on his film aesthetics. And that’s fine with me.
The ominous opening set the tone despite the humour, some of it actually funny, and this was never dull even though the Assault on Precinct 13 (1976) scenario kept most of the shenanigans indoors.
Gerard Butler wasn’t dire! He’s sometimes capable of being okay and here is one of those occasions. Frank Grillo, Cutty from The Wire, the cast is not an issue and every character was credible.
Rather thrilling hokum, genuinely inexperienced cops of mostly limited talents really struggling when up against hardened criminals.
It does, however, wholeheartedly exhibit that infuriating habit of American cinema, characters constantly addressing one another by their names during every single exchange they have, as if the audience will have forgotten who they are.
Just stop doing it. It needs to end.
Michael Shannon is quite an extraordinary actor, and only a Tom Hardy or Michael Fassbender could inject such pathos and reasoning in a snake like Rick Carver. It’s Gordon Gekko for the 2007-2008 financial crisis, but with more of a backstory and a wee bit more humanity in the very naughty lad. He clearly exploits Garfield from the start but also sees massive potential in his brains and work ethic; it’s a relationship built on a knife edge.
And it shows you, to a degree, how this system works – exploitation, cynicism, government and corporations working together to screw you. And the exploited bails them out. It’s shocking but not really surprising.
Gripping all the way through, a life lesson and a character study.
Fabulous stuff.
I’m sure this was about something, and that something was something other than surface sheen and pyrotechnics, but it wasn’t something that interested me in the slightest.
So I won’t be bothering with a review other than that of Kenneth Branagh’s Russian ‘accent’, which receives a 0/5 from me.
Bye for now.
I expected something abysmal but instead found Mark Margolis, David Keith (not to be confused with Keith David), Vondas from The Wire, Joey Pants, the hulking Michael Clarke Duncan, and a possessed Colin Farrell having the time of his life, seemingly (“I want a bloody costume”). A colourful cast, folk that can act. Despite the unwatchable Jon Favreau (he is awful in everything), it’s not bad at all.
I was terribly entertained, and a sequel would have been at least pleasant. The movie has the standard silly one-liners and inevitable awkward attempts at comedy, but it’s suitably grim and grimy, and the story has some basis in a believable reality. I was also borderline shocked to see how much of this movie was appropriated for Batman Begins (2005), and the ending lifted verbatim.
Affleck is also fine in it. And the music is banging.
#WakeMeUpInside.
The incredible archive footage, the level of research, the interviews, the music, the sound of Laurence Olivier.
Sublime and unrivalled.
Wanderings and ... wonderings. 