The Post (12A)
Some 40 years after All The President’s Men told how Washington Post reporters Woodward and Bernstein exposed the Watergate scandal that brought down President Nixon, Steven Spielberg serves up this swiftly made prequel about the 1971 leaking of the so-called Pentagon Papers. These were a classified report into the role of the US in IndoChina commissioned by Secretary of Defence Robert McNamara (Bruce Greenwood) that, initially leaked to the New York Times by Daniel Ellsberg (Matthew Rhys), an analyst with the Rand Corporation (and whose story was told in a 2003 TV movie), revealed how the US administration, from Truman to Nixon, had been lying to the American public about policy towards Vietnam, prolonging a war they knew could never be won – at the cost of American lives – to avoid humiliation.
With the Times barred from publishing further details by the Attorney General, when The Washington Post, a regional daily under the managing editorship of Ben Bradlee (Tom Hanks) and publisher Kay Graham (Meryl Streep), the socialite who had inherited the company following her husband’s suicide, acquired the rest of the papers, they prepared to take up the story.
Opening with the Post initially having a run-in with the White House when Nixon refused to let it cover his daughter’s wedding, the film focuses on the pressures and decisions around whether to publish or not; Graham was in the process of taking the company public on the Stock Exchange and any “catastrophic occurrence” could cause investors to pull out and potentially cause the paper to collapse. Equally, there was the possibility they could be held in contempt of court and imprisoned for treason, again bringing the paper to its knees. As the film tells it, Graham was also under pressure from members of her Board of Directors who did not feel she had the experience and strength to handle matters, not least being a woman. This strand runs parallel with Bradlee’s race against the clock to obtain the papers and get the articles written in the event Graham, who was a close friend of McNamara, elected to give the go-ahead to publish.
Unfolding a confrontation between the press and the government, it’s a taut, suspenseful thriller about the freedom of the press to hold those in power accountable, a throwback to the days of hot metal type when a regional newspaper actually meant something rather than filling its pages with lightweight ‘user generated’ dross. Streep and Hanks (in rolled up shirt sleeves snapping out lines like “Anyone else tired of reading the news instead of reporting it?”) are terrific, especially in the scenes they share, and are well supported by a cast that also includes Tracy Letts, Sarah Paulson, Alison Brie, Bradley Whitford and, as Ben Bagdikian, the reporter who tracked down Ellsberg to get hold of the papers, Bob Odenkirk. Spielberg drives things along at pace that captures the urgency of the situation as the deadline for going to print approaches and there’s much here to make veteran newshounds nostalgic, but, more to the point, it’s a potent reminder of the power of great journalism in the cause of the public interest at a time when the press is under increasing pressure from those who would prefer the truth of their deception and corruption remained unreported. (Cineworld 5 Ways, NEC, Solihull; Electric; Empire Great Park, Sutton Coldfield; Odeon Birmingham, Broadway Plaza; Reel; Showcase Walsall; Vue Star City)
Following 2014’s The Book of Life, it’s now Pixar’s turn to take animation audiences on a journey into the afterlife, as celebrated in Mexico’s Day of the Dead, a lively, colourful festival to remember friends and family members who have passed on and who, at least here, cross over to (unseen) spend time with their relatives. As with all the best Pixar films, there’s a definite darkness as it delivers familiar messages about family, friendship, passion and being true to yourself. Boldly, the title character, while pivotal to the story, isn’t actually the focus of the narrative. She’s an old Mexican woman drifting in and out of dementia and hovering around death’s door. As a child, her heart was broken when her father left to pursue his dream of being a musician, to which end her mother banned music from the home and family and went into the shoemaking business. Two generations later, the business is thriving, but ban still stands, much to the frustration of 12-year-old Miguel (Anthony Gonzalez) who, having secretly taught himself to play guitar, wants to emulate his hero, the late legendary film and singing star Ernesto de la Cruz (Benjamin Bratt).
When his gran smashes his guitar, looking to take part in a talent show, Miguel ‘borrows’ the one that belonged to de la Cruz from his shrine and suddenly finds himself transported to the Land of the Dead where his assorted dead relatives, all friendly-looking skeletons, offer to give him the blessing he needs (involving bright orange marigold petals) to return home before he becomes a skeleton like them, but, his great-grandmother insists it’s on the condition he renounces music. Miguel, however, decides to track down his idol, as huge a star in death as he was in life, and seek his blessing instead, and who, to his surprise and delight, he’s discovered he was his great-great grandfather . To do so, however, he needs the help of Hector (Gael García Bernal), a skeleton and a bit of a con artists who says he knows Ernesto and wants to get back to the Land of the Living and see his daughter one last time before, with no one putting up his photo on the Day of the Dead, he’s forgotten and lost forever.
Full of traditional Mexican music, with songs (notably the soaring ballad Remember Me) from the team behind Frozen, and a storyline tht involves an unexpected revelation, betrayal, lots of sight gags and a scraggly, tongue-lolling hairless Xoloitzcuintli street dog sidekick, this is a vibrant, visually spellbinding and ultimately hugely touching bittersweet family film that will also help make the idea of death seem less scary for youngsters. And, unlike Ferdinand, the characters here all speak with native accents. (Cineworld 5 Ways, NEC, Solihull; Empire Great Park, Sutton Coldfield; Odeon Birmingham, Broadway Plaza, West Brom; Reel; Showcase Walsall; Vue Star City)
The Commuter (15)
Liam Neeson teams with director Jaume Collet-Serra for a fourth time for what is, essentially, Non-Stop on a train. A sixty-year-old ex-cop who, for the past ten years has commuting between home and New York’s Grand Central (as indicated by the composite prologue of him getting up and going to work), insurance salesman Michael MacCauley (Neeson) arrives at work to be told he’s been made redundant. Already financially strapped and with his son’s college tuition coming up, he can’t bring himself to tell his wife (Elizabeth McGovern) and, after drowning his sorrows in the bar with his cop buddy Alex (Patrick Wilson) heads for the train home one last time.
Here he’s joined by a mysterious woman (a compelling Vera Farmiga) who says she’s a behavioural psychologist and poses him the hypothetical question as to what he would do if offered $100,000 to find someone on the train who, carrying a bag, doesn’t ‘belong’ and identify them, without knowing the consequences. After she gets off, finding $25,000 stashed where she said, MacCauley realises it wasn’t so hypothetical after all. Now, with his every move apparently being monitored, and the woman phoning in instructions, threatening his family unless he cooperates, he has to try and identify which of the non-regular passengers is the Prynne in question, apparently the witness to a murder that certain powerful figures want eliminated and plant a tracker on the bag before they get to a certain station and hook up with the FBI, Is it the black guy with the guitar case, the Latino nurse, the brash and obnoxious hedge fund manager, the guy with a tattoo and an attitude or the student with the nose piercing (Lady Macbeth’s Florence Pugh)?
As bodies pile up, he’s ultimately given the choice of killing the witness himself or letting his wife and son die, finally prompting our senior citizen action hero to declare “I’m done playing games”, leading to a spectacular derailment, the surviving carriage with its ‘hostages’ surrounded by a SWAT team led by Sam Neill in a thankless brief role pretty much anyone could have played.
Blithely disregarding logical and piling on the contrivances, there’s a feeling that the star and director have perhaps been to this well too many times, but there’s no denying they know how to play the Everyman in a tight spot formula and, starting slowly and gradually gathering speed as MacAuley does battle with a gunman in an empty carriage, making use of some dizzying camera work this delivers exactly the ride you expect when you buy the ticket. (Cineworld 5 Ways, NEC, Solihull; Empire Great Park; Everyman; Odeon Birmingham, Broadway Plaza, West Brom; Reel; Showcase Walsall; Vue Star City)
An awkwardly assembled environmental end of days Swiftian allegory, Alexander Payne’s latest is an interesting concept flawed by its telling. With over-population and climate change putting unsustainable pressure on the planet, a team of Norwegian scientists headed up by Jorgen Asbjørnsen (Rolf Lassgard) come up with a means of miniaturising people to around six inches, creating a colony and eventually announcing their discovery to the world. It’s not long before hundred are volunteering to downsize and moving to purpose built communities such as Leisureland where, apparently, going small means you can live a much grander life. Overstretched as they are, that certainly appeals to occupational therapist Paul Safranek (Matt Damon) and, convinced by a friend (Jason Sudeikis) who’s opted for a Lilliputian life, and the fact that their $152,000 asserts are worth $12m in Leisureland, having had the sales spiel and seen the presentation (hosted by a cameoing Neil Patrick Harris and Laura Dern) he and his wife Audrey (Kirstin Wiig) decide to follow suit.
However, waking up after the procedure (during which all body hair has to be removed along with any dental fillings), while peering under the sheet and happily finding that certain things have shrunk in proportion, he’s then shocked to learn Audrey backed out at the last moment.
Now, he has to make a new life for himself alone. At which point the film introduces a couple of new narrative strands in the form of his playboy Eurotrash neighbour, Dusan (Christopher Waltz), who’s made a fortune on the black market by smuggling contraband from the ‘outside’ world, and his cleaner, Ngoc Lan (Hong Chau), leg, the embittered sole only survivor of Vietnamese dissidents who were shrunk by her government as a punishment. Now with an ill-fitting artificial leg, she lives in Leisureland’s equivalent of ghettoised housing projects with the other ‘undesirables’ and it is through her that Paul begins to learn to see the world and his life in a different perspective, helping her distribute leftover food to the less fortunate. Inevitably an unlikely romance sparks. Then comes news that the world is facing an extinction event.
Encased in a glass-dome, Leisureland is clearly America in microcosm, with all the same racial and class inequalities still writ large, but the Faustian bargain screenplay never seems to quite find its focus or tone, veering between satirical comedy, mutual healing romance, eco parable and commentary on the economic crisis. Not helped by a running gag about the mispronunciation of his character’s name, a rather bland Damon never feels quite comfortable in the role while Waltz and, as his equally hedonistic partner in crime, Udo Kier, turn up the dial on their performances to an almost camp degree. Unexpectedly, initially appearing to be something of an ethnic stereotype with her broken English and rapid speaking patters, Chau hijacks the film, proving genuinely funny (her list of the different types of American fuck is hilarious) and giving the film’s strongest and most emotional performance as Ngoc emerges as the most interesting and complex character. Feeling like a film written to fit the title pun, it’s a big idea but it comes up short.(From Wed: Cineworld 5 Ways, NEC, Solihull; Empire Great Park; Everyman; Showcase Walsall; Vue Star City)
All The Money In The World (15)
It would be a pity if the now 80-year-old Ridley Scott’s film about the kidnapping of Paul Getty, the grandson of J Paul Getty, the richest man in the history of the word, was overshadowed by the fact that, in the wake of sexual harassment allegations, he had to reshoot large elements to replace Kevin Spacey with, ironically, his original choice for the role of Getty Sr., Christopher Plummer. It’s likely to prove even more ironic should Plummer get the Oscar nomination his performance warrants.
Adopting a thriller approach, the film unfolds the 1973 kidnapping of the teenage Getty (Charlie Plummer, no relation) by a faction from the left-wing Red Brigade in Italy and how Getty Sr. flatly refused to pay the $17 million ransom to secure his release. It then follows the investigations by the Italian police alongside attempts by Paul’s mother, and Getty’s former daughter—in-law, Abigail (Michelle Williams), to get the old man to relent and negotiations with those responsible by Fletcher Chace (Mark Wahlberg), a former CIA operative who now works as fixer for the Getty family. When the gang get fed up of waiting, they sell the boy on to another, more highly connected syndicate, and the stakes get higher.
However, while it offers the procedural details and duly places a focus on one of the kidnappers (Romain Duris) who developed a sympathy for and friendship with Paul and, at least in this telling, helped him escape from his second set of captors and later avoid getting killed, as written by David Scarpa, the film isn’t actually about the abduction, but is, rather, a morality meditation on the nature of wealth and power, where value and worth are not necessarily the same.
There’s a chilling moment when, asked how much he’d pay to ransom his grandson, Getty replies with a cold smile and a shrug, “nothing”. Pragmatically, that makes sense, in the same way governments don’t openly negotiate with terrorists, but here it’s all about the deal, the terms and conditions, where human life becomes just another asset, to be invested in or not depending on whether the return justifies the investment. It’s brilliantly underscored in a later sequence (revisited at the end in an almost Rosebud moment), where, you assume, Getty has come to negotiate for his grandson’s release, only to learn that, after declaring he has no money free, it’s about something else entirely. Even when he gathers Abigail, her junkie ex, John Paul Getty II (Andrew Buchan), her lawyer and the Getty board round the table to propose agreeing to the ransom, it’s only because he’s found a way to make it tax deductible. More to the point, the terms of the loan indicate a resentful and bitter Getty’s long-game dynastic agenda regarding his grandchildren, his ‘blood’ (suggesting he felt that Abigail had already kidnapped them when she traded alimony for custody). The film’s point is that money and power are addictive and can destroy you if not controlled (underlined by a 1971 flashback sequence that shows how Getty was reunited with his estranged and broke son with an out of his league offer that would lead to dissolution and divorce), and Getty, who supposedly believed himself the reincarnation of the Emperor Hadrian, has no intention of not being in control, even if it means sacrificing those he loves.
Keeping the pace and tension ratcheted, at times it also sports a black humour, not least in the, presumably true, touch of Getty having had a telephone kioks installed in his English stately country pile for guests to use because, as he tells his young grandson in the flashback, “a Getty is nobody’s friend.” On the other hand, there’s also the grisly moment when young Getty has his ear graphically sliced off.
Suitably shot in cold greys and dark browns with flickers of firelight and shadows, it’s magnificently realised and, while Plummer may be the film’s lightning rod, the other central actors, Williams, Whalberg and the young Plummer, and are all rock solid, delivering a thoughtful morality play for the mammon generation. (Cineworld 5 Ways, NEC; Empire Great Park; Everyman; Odeon Broadway Plaza; Showcase Walsall; Vue Star City)
Darkest Hour (PG)
The third film in under a year to revolve around the Dunkirk evacuation and the second to put the spotlight on Winston Churchill, directed by Joe Wright from a screenplay by Anthony McCarten, this charts the three weeks in May 1940 from the resignation of the cancer-stricken Neville Chamberlain after losing Parliament’s confidence in his appeasement approach to the war in Europe to the setting out of the fleet of civilian boats to rescue the 300,00 troops, pretty much the entire British army, from the Dunkirk beaches.
Sporting but also rising beyond convincing prosthetics, Gary Oldman gives a tour de force performance as Winston Churchill, Conservative MP and First Lord of the Admiralty, who, despite being generally disliked by his own party, was, as the only one acceptable to the Opposition, asked to become Prime Minister and head a coalition government as the Nazis swept through Belgium and France and threatened England with invasion.
The film primarily focuses on the battles Churchill faced with his own War Cabinet, in particular Chamberlain (Ronald Pickup) and Viscount Halifax (Stephen Dillane), both of whom favoured negotiating terms with Hitler, the suggestion here being that a beleaguered Churchill bowed to pressure to allow Mussolini to act as an intermediary only to recant in the final hour. It also shows how, looking to bolster the spirit of the British public, he also lied about the German advances, claiming Allied forces were holding their own, when the truth was a very different matter, as well as his decision to sacrifice the battalion stationed at Calais (prompting a brief, narratively unnecessary and manipulative scene of the doomed solders) so as to give the troops at Dunkirk a better chance of being evacuated.
Largely shot in underground bunkers, corridors and closed rooms (at one point, in a dimly lit scene against a black background, it imagines him on the phone to Roosevelt in his private WC) it captures the claustrophobic tension as the hours ticked away, Churchill’s position looking increasingly precarious as his rivals plotted his removal. Looking, acting and sounding very bit like the man often described as the greatest Englishman ever, Oldman’s Churchill is irascible, self-willed and at times something of a bully, cigar and a glass of either Scotch or champagne rarely far from his hand, but also sharp of wit and humour, capable of compassion, brought to doubt and depression with the burden of responsibility and, who, as Halifax puts it here “mobilised the English language and sent it into battle”, delivering rhetoric that has stood the test of history.
Oldman’s also well served by his supporting cast, chief among them Kristen Scott-Thomas as his exasperated but loyally supportive wife Clemmie, Ben Mendelsohn as King George VI who, initially siding with Halifax is shown here, in an intimate meeting chez Winston, as offering his support and Lily James as Elizabeth Layton, the (fictional) secretary assigned as Churchill’s personal typist, one particular scene between the two of them providing the film’s most powerful emotional moment.
The film does take some fanciful liberties, most specifically a wholly invented sequence that sees Churchill riding the Underground and chatting to assorted representatives of the British public, especially a cute young girl, who in their resolve not to surrender to Hitler supposedly move him to tears and steeled his resolve not to negotiate and inspired the subsequent immortal fight on the beaches…never surrender speech. Arriving on the eve of another exit from Europe, it does sound some loud patriotic bells about the English resolve and spirit that could well be co-opted by the wrong quarters, but as insightful history lesson, character study and dramatic populist entertainment, this is a definite V for victory. (Cineworld 5 Ways, NEC, Solihull; Electric; Empire Great Park, Sutton Coldfield; Everyman; Odeon Birmingham, Broadway Plaza, West Brom; Reel; Showcase Walsall; Vue Star City)
The Disaster Artist (15)
Released in 2003, starring and written, produced and directed by tinsel town wannabe Tommy Wiseau, a man of indeterminate age and nationality (sporting a strangled, word-mangling Eastern European accent, several belts, shades, straggly black hair and a weathered appearance, he claimed to be 19 and from New Orleans) and with no perceptible talent in front of or behind the camera, making Ed Wood seem like Hitchcock, The Room was swiftly proclaimed to be one of the worst films ever made. However, rather than vanishing into oblivion, it gradually gained cult status for its stilted acting, erratic subplots and staggeringly terrible script, eventually being tagged the Citizen Kane of bad movies. It even made back its $6million budget and turned a profit.
Now, James Franco, who, let’s face it, has known his fair share of awful movies, has produced, written, directed and starred in this hysterical biopic based on the book of the same name documenting the film’s production. In what could prove the ultimate irony, it could even find itself among the Oscar nominees.
Franco’s brother Dave plays the baby-faced Greg Sestero (who co-wrote the book), a struggling actor in San Francisco who, after murdering Waiting for Godot, is impressed by classmate Tommy’s fearless bravura reading of a scene from A Streetcar Named Desire in an acting workshop (headed by Melanie Griffiths) and the pair form an unlikely friendship, eventually resolving to stick together and head to L.A. to make it in the movies. Inevitably, singularly ungifted, neither get any breaks and so, on impulse, they decide to make their own movie, with Tommy in the lead as the man betrayed by his girlfriend with Greg in a major supporting role. However, when the cameras begin to roll, Greg quickly realises that Tommy might not quite be the man he’d imagined him to be, his lack of talent rendering scenes excruciating while his quirks (such as recreating a set exactly the same as the alley next to where they’re filming) make things a nightmare for everyone involved.
With a crew that includes Seth Rogen as script supervisor (and ostensible director) Sandy Schklair, Josh Hutcherson as 27-year-old cast as a mentally disabled teenager, Jacki Weaver as the actress trying to fathom out her pointless breast cancer subplot and Zak Efron unrecognisable as a gangster, the film also includes priceless cameos from Judd Apataw as a testy producer and Sharon Stone as Greg’s agent while Alison Brie sparkles as the bartender who becomes his girlfriend and Bryan Cranston as himself. Plus, of course, Wiseau in person.
Franco is mesmerising as the unfathomable, indefatigable and seemingly oblivious Tommy, the film brilliantly recreating scenes from Wiseau’s film note for note as seen in the side-by-side comparisons over the end credits, his sympathetic performance underscoring the core message about believing in yourself even when that belief may be misguided, pointedly reinforced in the film’s finale as monumental disaster and unqualified triumph go hand in hand.
Ultimately, although it hints at insecurities and hang ups and Franco’s screenplays offers moments between Wiseau and Sestero that feed into The Room , you learn no more about Tommy or his motivations on screen than anyone knows about him off it, but that’s really not the point. No one ever sets out to make a bad film and this is a terrific love letter to the fire that drives someone to get behind a camera and make something for audiences to share and enjoy. (Mockingbird)
Previously adapted as a 1938 Disney animated short, Munro Leaf and Robert Lawson’s 1936 book about a flower-loving bull now gets the full-length treatment by Rio director Carlos Saldanha, but, despite some amusing moments and not inconsiderable charm, never quite hits the bullseye. Born on Casa del Toros, a Spanish ranch dedicated to rearing bulls for the bullring, Ferdinand (voiced by John Cena) would rather smell flowers than butt heads with his motley crew of fellow calves, among them the bullying, ultra-competitive Valiente (Bobby Cannavale). On learning that his father – and all the other bulls – never got out of the ring alive, Ferdinand breaks out and winds up in the countryside where he’s taken in by flower farmer Juan and his daughter Nina (Lily Day) and raised as the family pet.
However, now grown to massive size, an unfortunate mishap at the local flower festival, where he literally becomes a bull in a china shop, sees him declared a dangerous beast and he’s duly carted off by the authorities, winding up back at Casa del Toros to where famous bullfighter El Primero (Miguel Angel Silvestre) has come to select his opponent for his farewell bullfight. Those, like Tres, that don’t make the cut are duly shipped off to the factory up the hill to become meat.
Refusing to fight, Ferdinand, with the help of Lupe (Kate McKinnon), a sort of mangy calming goat trainer variation on the old boxing coach getting a final shot with a contender, and three scrappy hedgehogs (Gina Rodriguez, Daveed Diggs and Gabriel Iglesias), resolves to escape again. This time taking the other bulls, including Angus (David Tennnant), a Highland bull whose hair makes it impossible to see where he’s going, and Valiente whose confrontation with Ferdinand has left him destined for the butcher’s knife, with him. To do so, however, first requires crossing the paddock occupied by a trio of preening Lipizzaner horses (Boris Kodjoe, Flula Borg, Sally Phillips). Suffice to say, although the animals get away, following a frantic chase through the Madrid streets, Ferdinand himself winds up in the bullring facing off against Primero.
It’s a fairly slight, somewhat repetitive tale, beefed up with things like the dance battle between the bulls and the horses and, even if all turns out well in the end, the grim spectre of the meat factory may prove a touch upsetting for younger audiences. On the other hand, it’s visually very attractive and fluidly animated, its familiar messages about being true to yourself and not being bullied sitting alongside an understated but clear criticism of bullfighting per se. Although Spanish accents (and music) are largely absent (her father has one, but Nina speaks pure American), even if Tennant does rather overplay things, the voice work, especially from Cena and the scene stealing McKinnon, is appealing with sufficient quirk and cute to keep kids and adults amused and make the cattle call worthwhile. (Odeon Birmingham, Broadway Plaza; Showcase Walsall; Vue Star City)
The Greatest Showman (12A)
Closer to Baz Luhrman’s Moulin Rouge than La La Land, whose Benj Pasek and Justin Paul also provide the songs here, first time director Michael Gracey and writers Jenny Bicks and Bill Condon (who, having penned Chicago and Dreamgirls, knows his way around a musical) may take any number of liberties with the life of 19th century showman and legendary hoaxer Phineas T Barnum, but succeed in serving up a fabulous sugar rush, candy coloured helping of feelgood family entertainment about the man who pretty much invented modern day entertainment.
Bearing absolutely no resemblance to the real Barnum, who looked more like Mel Smith and didn’t get into show business until he was in his 60s, Hugh Jackman is clearly having the time of his life, positively exploding with energy in the musical routines (and let’s not forget he first made his name in musical theatre and won a Tony for the Broadway production of The Boy From Oz), but also hitting the key emotional notes when needed.
It opens with a brief background prologue, introducing the young Phineas (Ellis Rubin) as the son of a struggling tailor who falls for Charity (Skylar), the daughter of his dad’s stern and snobbish client who sends her away to put an end to the friendship. Barnum’s father dies and the kid’s reduced to stealing food on the streets, until befriended by a disfigured stranger, he’s inspired to become more than he is and chase his Million Dreams.
Fast forward and, having made something of himself as an office clerk, the now grown Barnum marries Charity (Michelle Williams, somewhat underused), again to her father’s disapproval, and they have two cute daughters, Caroline and Helen (Austyn Johnson and Cameron Seely), and, when the shipping company he works for goes belly-up, a flash of inspiration leads Barnum to open his American Museum, a collection of historical wax figures and stuffed exotic animals, in the hope of attracting the curious. A bedtime observation from one of the kids that it could do with an exhibit that’s not dead then prompts him to round up all manner of society’s freaks, among them bearded lady singer Lettie (Keala Settle), a 22-year old dwarf (Sam Humphrey) he dresses up as General Tom Thumb, a giant, Siamese twins, a fat man, the hairy Dog Boy and, brother and sister trapeze artists whose only ‘deformity’ is being African American, exaggerating their ‘freakishness’ for extra effect and nigger ‘humbug’.
Scamming the bank for a loan, he opens his theatre and, proving there’s no such thing as bad publicity, transforms a scathing review into an audience magnet with the New York crowds flocking in, restyling his show as a circus with himself as the ringmaster. Looking to move beyond lowbrow audiences, he then forms a partnership with Philip Caryle (Zac Efron in his first musical role since High School Musical and very loosely based on James Bailey of the Barnum and Bailey Circus), a bored theatrical producer with a hefty trust fund and the sort of connections that can earn the troupe an audience with Queen Victoria.
It’s here Barnum meets Jenny Lind (Rebecca Ferguson), the feted opera singer known as the Swedish Nightingale, and sees an opportunity to move from the peanut to the champagne market. Gambling both his reputation and his wealth, he signs her up for first a New York showcase and then a mammoth American tour. Suffice to say, things do not go well, resulting in a marriage threatening scandal while, back in New York, the bigot mob protests about the ‘freaks’ get out of hand and the tentative road to romance between Philip and Anne (Zendaya), one half of the trapeze act, is hitting some racial prejudice bumps.
Naturally, setbacks are just a spur to bigger and better success and, as such the film is very much a hymn to the underdogs chasing the American Dream, not to mention a clarion cry for diversity that strikes a far more right on contemporary note about those on the margins than would have been the case in Barnum’s day, even if none of the troupe are given anything like a backstory..
But social commentary is secondary to the spectacle and the songs, the rooftop dance routines, the lavish circus ring bombast, and the cast and film deliver with exuberant gusto, standout moments being Ferguson (albeit overdubbed by Loren Allred) singing out the pain of being the outsider with Never Enough, Settle leading the charge with the showstopper (and surely Oscar favourite) This Is Me, Jackman and Efron’s lithe shot glass shifting barroom negotiations dance routine and the literally soaring circus ring Rewrite the Stars sequence with Efron and Zendaya. Climaxing with Jackman leading the rousing cast finale of From Now On, this is a fabulous celebration of the power of unadulterated entertainment to raise the spirits and fill the heart and the transition from screen to the Broadway stage is surely a given. (Cineworld 5 Ways, NEC, Solihull; Empire Great Park, Sutton Coldfield; Everyman; Odeon Birmingham, Broadway Plaza, West Brom; Reel; Showcase Walsall; Vue Star City)
Set in 1892, when a violent Comanche raid on their homestead leaves her husband and two young daughters dead, young pioneer wife Rosalie Quaid (Rosamund Pike) escapes into the woods clutching her murdered baby. At which point, Crazy Heart director Scott Cooper switches focus to a fort in New Mexico as Captain Joseph Blocker (Christian Bale), a steeped in blood legend of the so-called “Indian Wars”, for whom killing savages is his job, is given no choice but to accepts an order direct from the President to escort cancer-stricken Cheyenne war chief Yellow Hawk (Wes Studi exuding typical gravitas), a former nemesis responsible for the deaths of many of his men, back home to Montana, along with his family (Q’orianka Kilcher among them), to die. Blocker’s last mission before retirement, assembling a small hand-picked troupe (Rory Cochrane, Jonathan Majors, Jesse Plemons and Timothee Chalamet), they set off north, naturally coming across the burned out cabin and adding the understandably traumatised but ultimately resilient Rosalie along the way.
Inevitably the numbers in the party dwindle as the journey progresses, variously through the selfsame Comanches, fur trappers, a murderer deserter (Ben Foster) Blocker acquires en route to be delivered to prison and, eventually a final shoot-out with landowners in Montana who don’t take kindly to Indian burials.
A slow, deliberate Western road trip to redemption as Blocker’s anti-Indian hatred is slowly replaced by compassion, to the extent he ends up calling Yellow Hawk ‘friend’, it’s a pretty straightforward and, at times, simplistic commentary on the way Native Americans were dispossessed and treated as less than human (at one point, one of Blocker’s soldiers, haunted by his guilt, apologises to the Chief and asks for mercy before committing his own act of redemption), but also about how the past should be buried if there’s ever to be any hope of moving forwards. Even so, Rosalie’s bonding with Yellow Hawk’s young grandson and the final cathartic moments feel honestly and authentic, not least thanks to yet another deeply nuanced and world-weary performance from Bale, his soul-shaking torments perfectly matched by Pike in some hugely emotional moments of her own. It’s slow and, at two hours plus, a tad overlong, the emphasis more on introspection than on action (though what there is brutal), but, while unlikely to attract a large audience, those who invest in a ticket won’t be disappointed. (Cineworld NEC; MAC; Showcase Walsall)
Insidious: The Last Key (15)
Despite the fact her character was killed off at the start of the first film, 74-year-old Lin Shaye has now managed to appear in not only the sequel, as a ghost, but also two prequels, this one serving as a sort of origin story regarding the psychic Elise Rainier. As such, it takes us back to her childhood (her younger selves played by Ava Kolker and Hana Hayes) in 50s New Mexico, sharing a haunted bedroom with her younger brother Christian and suffering under her abusive correctional officer father (Josh Stewart) who’s fearful of her ‘gift’ (talking to the assorted ghosts that infest their house near to the penitentiary) and determined to beat it out of her.
Sometime after tragedy claims the life of her supportive mother (Tessa Ferrer), at the hands of a demonic force young Elise unintentionally sets free, she runs away from home. Fast forward to 2010 when she gets a call from a man who wants her help to get rid of his haunting, and turns out to be living in the very house where she grew up. Returning home, which remains pretty much as she left it, she not only encounters her embittered brother (Bruce Davison), who’s never forgiven her for leaving him alone with dad, and discovers she has two nieces, Melissa (Spencer Locke) and Imogen (Caitlin Gerard), the latter of whom also turns out to have the gift.
The wildly contrived and at times exhaustingly convoluted plot proceeds to reveal a history of both supernatural and real world demons (a somewhat underexplored theme about where the real horrors lie) involving further flashbacks, women chained in cells, a plea from a ghost for help, her brother’s long lost whistle, given to him by mum to blow if he needed help, and a variety of locked doors (some red) and keys. There’s also the return of Elise’s ghostbuster sidekicks, Specs (screenwriter Leigh Whannell) and Tucker (Angus Sampson) to provide some flaccid comic relief.
Director Adam Robitel does a serviceable job, but, with its innumerable flickering lights, darkened rooms, shadowy hallways, confined spaces and figures suddenly appearing from nowhere, he brings nothing new to a well worn genre, while the scares are pretty low down the fright scale too. It ends with a phone call that returns to the start of the first film, suggesting that Shaye’s storyline has (further prequels notwithstanding) run its course and, if the franchise still has life in it, then it’s Imogen’s turn to pick up the (inevitably flickering) torch. (Cineworld 5 Ways, NEC, Solihull; Electric; Empire Great Park; Everyman; Odeon Birmingham, Broadway Plaza, West Brom; Reel; Showcase Walsall; Vue Star City)
The subject of some 40 films, mostly shown on television, and the author of 15 books (as well as 11 for children), born in 1934, Jane Goodall is a British anthropologist considered world’s leading expert on chimpanzees and whose research challenged the male-dominated scientific consensus of her time and revolutionised our understanding of the natural world. Drawing on over 100 hours of previous unseen footage from the National Geographic archives, director Brett Morgan has put together a biographical documentary about her life and work that’s is being talked up as an Oscar contender. (Tue-Thu:MAC)
Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle (12A)
Picking things up from the end of the 1995 adaptation of Chris Van Allsburg’s children’s book that saw Robin Williams escape from a magical board game and then have to save the city from the creatures that followed him, director Jake Kasden updates the concept for the video game generation with an added body swap makeover, except this time the adventures are played out inside the game itself.
Found washed up on the beach in 1996 and transforming into a video cartridge, the game sucks in teenager Alex (Nick Jonas) as its latest victim, the film then cutting to some twenty years later as, in shades of the Breakfast Club, four high schoolers, scrawny nerd Spencer (Alex Wolff), football star Fridge (Ser’Darius Blain), self-absorbed phone-addict princess Bethany (Madison Iseman) and introverted Martha (Morgan Turner), find themselves in detention and ordered to tidy up a junk cupboard. Here they chance upon and decide to play an old video console and are themselves duly sucked into the game, transformed into their chosen but personality mismatched avatars. The hulking Fridge becomes diminutive panicky zoologist Moose Finbar (Kevin Hart), none too pleased to find he’s sidekick and weapon carrier to Spencer’s ripped expedition leader archaeologist Smolder Bravestone (Dwayne Johnson), while Madison becomes kick-ass Lara Croft halter top type Ruby Roundhouse (Karen Gillan) and, to her horror, Bethany is the overweight middle-aged cryptographer Professor Shelly Oberon (Jack Black).
No sooner have they arrived than game guide Nigel (Rhys Darby) turns up to inform them of their mission to save Jumanji from the curse brought about by Van Pelt (Bobby Canavale) when he stole an emerald jewel from a giant Jaguar statue and became one with the jungle creatures, scorpions and centipedes crawling in and out of his orifices.
Realising they reluctantly have no option but to play the game and return the jewel to its rightful place and that the three stripes on their arms denote how many lives they have before it’s ‘game over’ – for real, the film duly unfolds in customary video game style with the characters having to move from one level to the next by competing various tasks, run through the jungle and try to remain out of the clutches of the pursuing Van Pelt and his motorbike riding henchmen, hooking up with another stranded player along the way.
Wisely, Kasdan and the four screenwriters opt to play tongue in cheek, winking at videogame conventions such as the characters all having strengths and weaknesses (Hart’s is cake), while the cast duly send-themselves up, Johnson regularly breaking into ‘smouldering intensity’ poses and admiring his physique.
Gillen arguably has the more underwritten role (although Ruby’s attempt to learn flirting from Bethany is hysterical), but nevertheless makes for a feisty action heroine with her dancefight skills, while Black proves the film’s star with some hilarious riffs on being a teenage girl trapped in a man’s body, inevitably including various penis-related gags. Naturally, it all comes with a self-discovery message as the transformed teens all learn something about themselves and each other and emerge as better, more confident people at the end of the journey, Bethany’s arc being perhaps the most satisfying and touching of them all.
While played for thrills and laughs, it’s not without its dark moments, and, even if characters return after their ‘death’, the sight of Black being gobbled up by a hippo might give some impressionable young minds a sleepless night or two. Cheerfully cobbling together elements from Indiana Jones, Romancing The Stone, Scott Pilgrim vs The World and Freaky Friday, it may not be a masterpiece but it is hugely entertaining, enjoyable escapist family fun. Get that jungle fever. (Cineworld 5 Ways, Solihull; Empire Great Park, Sutton Coldfield; Everyman; Odeon Birmingham, Broadway Plaza, West Brom ; Reel; Showcase Walsall; Vue Star City)
Molly’s Game (15)
Having penned the screenplays for The Social Network, Moneyball and Steve Jobs, not to mention TV series The West Wing, Aaron Sorkin is already one of the great screenwriters and he now makes his Scorsese-influenced debut as a hyphenate, both writing and directing the true story of Molly Bloom (Jessica Chastain), the former American downhill skier and Olympic hopeful who, her career shattered by a frozen stick on a ski course, went on to set up and run the world’s most exclusive high-stakes underground poker game before until arrested by heavily armed FBI agents.
Based on Bloom’s titular memoir in which she declined to identify the celebrities and other high fliers who took part in the games, the film cuts back and forth between the run up to the court case and the events leading up to the bust. In the former, with the Feds pressuring her to name names, specifically the members of the Russian Mafia she’d unwittingly welcomed into her circle.she’s represented by initially reluctant and alpha male defence attorney Charlie Jaffey (Idris Elba as a fictionalisation of Bloom’s actual -white – lawyer, Jim Walden) increasingly frustrated by his client’s seemingly self-destructive streak. The backstory begins in California with Bloom becoming personal assistant to a guy (Jeremy Strong) running a sideline underground poker game, gradually becoming the brains and making connections with the regulars, most notably malicious movie star Player X (Michael Cera allegedly based on Tobey Maguire). When her boss gives her the elbow, Bloom relocates to New York and sets up on her own game with an even bigger buy-in, recruiting sexy hostesses, poaching his players and quickly pulling in a well-heeled array of others and somewhat inevitably developing drug habit that ultimately affects her judgement.
In many ways its entwined themes of power, money and pride are a gender spin mirror The Wolf of Wall Street, without the excess, being Sorkin, it’s inevitably packed with rapidly delivered dialogue and a heady barbed and witty exchanges, but he still keeps up a cracking sense of pace and tension while exploring moral codes, the importance of reputation (at one point Bloom refuses to disclose names because her reputation and dignity are all she has left) and women trying to succeed in a world dominated by high-powered men.
Eventually devolving into a court room drama (presided over by Grahame Green’s judge), the ending is, as in real life, something of an anti-climax, but the back and forth tables turning scene between Bloom, Jaffey and the FBI prosecutors is up there with the best of John Grisham. As the complex, determined yet also vulnerable Bloom who seemingly has no private life, Chastain gives another Oscar-worthy performance to rival last year’s Miss Sloane and, although often confined to reaction or exposition advancing sequences Elba makes for an imposing, magnetic figure and does get arguably the best speech . As Bloom’s tough-love psychologist father, Kevin Costner delivers another outstanding support turn, highlighted by a scene with Chastain at the ice skating rink in Central Park where he delivers several years of psychoanalysis in a few minutes while Chris O’Dowd provides dry humour as the poetic-tongued, drinking problem player who sets up the Russian introductions. It may be Sorkin’s first time at the director’s table, but this holds a Royal Flush. (Cineworld 5 Ways; Showcase Walsall; Vue Star City)
Paddington 2 (PG)
This delightful sequel to the 2014 movie reunites the original cast and finds Paddington Brown (voiced by Ben Wishaw) banged up in her Majesty’s for theft. He’s been found guilty of stealing a valuable 19th century book, a pop-up guide to London’s landmarks, from Mr, Gruber’s (Jim Broadbent) antique shop. He’s innocent, of course, and the book, which Paddington wanted to buy for Aunt Lucy’s (Imelda Staunton) birthday, has actually been stolen by the Brown’s Windsor Crescent Notting Hill neighbour, Phoenix Buchanan (Grant), a vain, faded stage star now reduced to fronting dog food commercials (a scene that will cause much laughter among those who remember the Clement Freud ads), who believes it actually contains clues to the location of a vast treasure hidden by the book’s originator, the Victorian steam fair owner and trapeze artiste who was murdered by one of her fellow performers.
All of which makes for a hugely enjoyable romp as the Browns, Henry (Hugh Bonneville), Mary (Sally Hawkins), their children, Jonathan (Samuel Joslin) and Judy (Madeleine Harris) and their Scottish housekeeper, Mrs Bird (Julie Walters) set about trying to track down the real thief, while, in prison, Paddington strikes up a friendship with feared hardman chef Knuckles McGinty (Brendan Gleeson) by introducing him to the delights of marmalade. All of which culminates in an high speed chase involving two steam trains that surely owes a debt to the likes of Harold Lloyd, the Keystone Cops and Mel Brooks.
The animation is outstanding, not least the water dripping from Aunt Lucy’s fur when, in the prologue, we see how she and Uncle Pastuzo (Michael Gambon) came to adopt their cub and the tear rolling down Paddington’s cheek when he thinks he’s been abandoned, while the film’s bright primary colours design reflects the happiness it seeks to spread.
Along with some inspired slapstick (including a riff in the classic rope and bucket routine), screenwriters Simon Farnaby, Jon Croker and Paul King, who also directs, pepper the narrative with a succession of very funny jokes, including some at the expense of Brexit, and effortlessly appeals to children and adults alike, it’s message about kindness and looking for the goodness in people of particular resonance in today’s world. Wishaw again perfectly captures exactly the right tone while Grant is on top form as the preening thespian.
Ben Miller’s grumpy Colonel gets to find love, pompous xenophobic Mr. Curry (Peter Capaldi), the street’s self appointed regulator, gets his comeuppance and there’s a clutch of cameos too, including Joanna Lumley as Buchanan’s agent, Tom Conti as the customer on the receiving end of a barber shop disaster who subsequently turns out to be the trial judge, and Richard Ayoade as a forensic scientist. All this plus a post credits tap dancing musical number featuring the pink striped prison uniforms that resulted from a Paddington mishap in the laundry. What more could anyone reasonably ask. (Empire Great Park; Everyman; MAC; Odeon Birmingham, Broadway Plaza, West Brom; Showcase Walsall; Vue Star City)
Pitch Perfect 3 (12A)
The final sing out for the Barden Bellas may not offer up much by way of a plot, the female buddy narrative about individual scenes designed to facilitate the girls doing their a capella thing, but they nevertheless bow out in appealingly entertaining style.
Having graduated college, the girls are now trying to make it in the real world, Chloe (Brittany Snow) applying to vet school, Fat Amy (Rebel Wilson) presenting her one-woman street show Fat Amy Winehouse and Beca (Anna Kendrick) working as a music producer, although she quits after a run in with a singularly untalented white rapper.
Invited by now-senior Bella Emily (Hailee Steinfeld) for an alumni graduation event, the whole crew turn up expecting to perform, only to find they’re just there to watch. However, with everyone gathered back together and having a crap time of things, Aubrey (Anna Camp) suggests they give it one more shot and wangles it with her forever absent army officer father to get the group invited on to a USO tour performing for American troops serving overseas, albeit in non-hostile and glossily photogenic locations like Dubai, Spain and Italy.
Arriving to find they’re sharing the bill with a rap duo, a country rock band and the competitive Evermoist, an all-girl punk-pop quartet going by the names Charity, Serentity, Veracity and Calamity (Ruby Rose), using, horror, actual instruments, they also learn that DJ Khaled (playing himself badly) will choose one of the acts to open for him on the final, televisised show in France (presumably the troops at the other non-televised shows have to be content with the no-name acts) and get signed up to his label, thereby prompting the inevitable competition.
However, before we get to any of this, the film actually opens aboard a luxury yacht with the Bellas giving a performance of Brittany Spears’ Toxic to three men before Amy crashes through the skylight, sprays the men with a fire extinguisher and the boat explodes, flashing back to the run up to this and introducing Amy’s lost estranged father (John Lithgow with cod Aussie accent), an international criminal who’s re-entered his daughter’s life for reasons that become clear later.
It is, however, a wholly superfluous and generally unfunny subplot as, indeed, is that involving series regulars John Michael Higgins and Elizabeth Banks as the snarkyTV commentators who, for no apparent reason are making a documentary on the Bellas. Along the way, Khaled’s producer Theo (Guy Burnet ), army hunk Chicago (Matt Lanter) and shy hip hop artist Zeke (Troy Ian Hall) emerge as respective potential boyfriends for Beca, Chloe and Lily (Hana Mae Lee), the silent type beat boxer who finally gets to speak and reveal her real name, there’s assorted disasters, the obligatory song battle riff offs between the rival acts and Beca is faced with a choice between solo fame and staying loyal to her Bellas family.
As ever, Kendrick, Wilson and Snow do the heavy lifting regards the comedy, emotion and vocals, with the other troupe members largely there to make up the numbers (there’s even a gag about how surplus to requirements Jessica and Ashley are), but, while often half-hearted, unfocused and thin with the lengthy end credits black and white outtakes suggesting some ruthless editing, it ultimately manages enough funny moments, sentimental messages about female friendship and, as ever, those a capella routines, Sia’s Cheap Thrills and George Michael’s O Freedom particular highlights, to make it worth pitching up one last time. (Cineworld 5 Ways, NEC; Empire Great Park; Odeon Birmingham, Broadway Plaza; Showcase Walsall; Vue Star City)
Star Wars: The Last Jedi (12A)
Not so much an ending, more returning the plot to the beginning to start over, written and directed by Rian Johnson, this comes as something of a disappointment after JJ Abrams’ excellent The Force Awakens and Gareth Edwards’ magnificent Rogue One. Certainly, often skewing to a younger audience than either of them, the early stretches feel like an unwelcome throwback to the George Lucas days with some particularly lame dialogue and jokey scenes. Picking up from the last instalment, the remains of the Resistance, aboard their fuel-dwindling carrier and led by General Leia (Carrie Fisher, the actress’s death creating all manner of script problems for the next episode) are fleeing the First Order, commanded by General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson, creepy but still slightly the wrong side of caricature), while, piloting the Millennium Falcon, Rey (Daisy Ridley), has tracked down the bearded self-exiled Luke Skywalker (a now seasoned and mature Mark Hamill, the best he’s ever been) on his remote island to persuade him to come to their aid and, with the force having awoken within her., train her in Jedi ways. He’s having none of either.
As such this is very much a film of two parts, one narrative strand following Leia, hot-headed X-wing pilot Poe (Oscar Isaac), former stormtrooper Finn (John Boyega) and new cast addition, Rose (Kelly Marie Tran), a low level rebel whose sister (Veronica Ngo) sacrificed herself in a bombing raid on a First Order Dreadnaught to save everyone, while the other focuses on Luke, Rey and her psychic connection with the brooding Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) who, having offed dad Han Solo last time round, is being groomed by Supreme Leader Snoke (Andy Serkis) as the next Vader. Sensing Ren’s conflicted, Rey hopes to turn him away from the dark side, but there’s a whole lot of plot backstory and different perspectives on events between him and Skywalker involved here.
Things are further divided into myriad subplots (not least a contrived visit to a space casino and an even more contrived cameo by Benicio Del Toro) that flit in and out of the main narratives, and Johnson doesn’t always juggle them successfully while the pursuit/escape and the push-pull strands often feel like a case of running to stand still. Plus there’s that cute/annoying budgie-like character, although at least it does set up an amusing scene involving Chewbacca and a barbecue.
Thankfully, after a somewhat hesitant start, once things get into their stride, the film seems to find its feet as it builds to a genuinely powerful climax and spectacular finale that’s invested with almost operatic grandeur, the scenes between Ren and Rey electrifyingly intense while the understated reunion between Luke and Leia is deeply touching.
As ever, it works its themes of heroism, courage, sacrifice, resilience and self-discovery to good effect, keeping an emotional grip even when the story becomes sluggish while naturally punctuated by a plethora of explosive action sequences and the obligatory lightsaber duels.
Initially slightly stiff (largely down to the prosaic lines she has to deliver), Ridley settles down to bring vitality and complexity to her character and, despite Finn being slightly underwritten this time around, Bodega stands up well, but there’s no escaping the fact that it’s Driver, Hamill and Isaac who provide the strongest performances. However, fans will be thrilled to see the cameo return of two iconic figures from the original series while the screenplay also delivers some unexpected major twists, paving the way for Episode IX with its new Vader/new Luke face-off. Johnson hasn’t fumbled the ball, but neither has he delivered by way of fancy footwork, turning in an entertaining but ultimately two and a half- hour bridge between more interesting chapters. (Cineworld 5 Ways, NEC, Solihull; Empire Great Park; Odeon Birmingham, Broadway Plaza, West Brom; Showcase Walsall; Vue Star City)
Three Billboards Outside Of Ebbing Missouri (15)
Already a Golden Globes triumph and heading up the BAFTA nominations, the latest from British-born In Bruges writer-director Martin McDonagh manages to make a narrative about rape, murder, revenge and racism a gallows-black comedy about masculine violence, guilt and forgiveness.
The title comes from the three hoardings that divorcee Mildred Hayes rents along the backroad leading to her home town, on them written in large black letters against a red backdrop, respectively, ‘Raped while dying’, ‘and still no arrests’ ‘How come, Chief Willoughby?’ It’s an accusatory protest regarding the fact that the local police, headed up by Bill Willoughby (Woody Harrelson) have made no progress in investigating the rape and brutal murder of her teenage daughter, Angela, some seven months previously. Although, sympathetic to her case, Willoughby has explained there is no DNA evidence and no leads, Mildred, pointedly dressed in combat-like bandana and coveralls, decides to poke things back into life.
The townsfolk aren’t overly happy about her actions, not least when the local media get involved, and matters are further complicated by the fact that Willoughby, married to a young wife (Abbie Cornish) with two young daughters, is dying of pancreatic cancer and that his officers feel little motivation to warm up a cold trail, least of all his numbskull deputy Officer Dixon (Oscar contender Sam Rockwell) a vindictive, racist, momma’s boy thug with a reputation for torturing black suspects, something to which his superior has turned a blind eye. Already having to tread cautiously around his mother’s emotions, Mildred’s teenage son, Robbie (Lucas Hedges) inevitably starts getting a hard time of things at school and around town and, to make matters worse, her abusive former husband (John Hawkes) turns up with his dumb 19-year-old lover (she confuses polo with polio yet aslo sagely notes that “anger begets greater anger”) and who reckons the billboards ideas is madness but is also looking to capitalise on things.
With everyone apparently against what she’s doing (a situation that prompts a brilliant scene between McDormand and Mildred’s priest), the investigation begins to take second place to getting rid of the billboards, Dixon, at one point, savagely beating up the advertising agent (Caleb Landry) who rented them out.
When Willoughby inevitably dies and any impetus seems to have hit a dead end, Mildred resorts to a different course of action, one involving petrol bombs and the police station. Surprisingly, it is through this that an unlikely redemption comes around, leading to the identification of a stranger in town, one who has already intimidated Mildred where she works, as a possible suspect in Angela’s case.
McDormand is electrifying as the mother determined to have justice, vigilante or otherwise, and does a brilliant job of making her sympathetic without necessarily making her the easiest of people to get along with, often foul mouthed, possessed and harsh in her dealings with others. Most notably the dentist who winds up on the wrong end of his own drill. Although only in the film for roughly half of the running time, Harrelson is also excellent, the scenes between Willoughby and Mildred crackling with brittle wit and tension, complemented by the poignant moments with his family, making the manner of his exit even more of a shock. Likewise, Rockwell is an utterly commanding presence and provides the film’s redemptive arc in a superbly well-judged piece of writing from McDonagh, while sterling support comes from Peter Dinklage as Mildred’s rebuffed but persistent lovelorn admirer, Clarke Peters as Willoughby’s replacement and, especially,
Dextrously juggling tonal shifts and moral ambiguities as it explores the abyss of guilt, anger and hurt that engulfs all the central characters, it sets scenes of brutal violence alongside moments of breathtaking beauty, such as Mildred’s early morning encounter with a deer. The final moments take on an almost resigned nihilism that suggests that some crimes will always go unpunished and wounds never heal, but, in an unlikely teaming, also ends with the controversial implication that perhaps you should punish those that can. (Cineworld 5 Ways, NEC, Solihull; Electric; Empire Great Park; Everyman; Odeon Birmingham, Broadway Plaza; Showcase Walsall; Vue Star City)
Cineworld 5 Ways – 181 Broad St, 0871 200 2000
Cineworld NEC – NEC 0871 200 2000
Cineworld Solihull – Mill Ln, Solihull 0871 200 2000
The Electric Cinema – 47–49 Station Street, 0121 643 7879
Empire – Great Park, Rubery, 0871 471 4714
Empire Sutton Coldfield – Maney Corner, Sutton Coldfield
0871 471 4714
The Everyman – The Mailbox 0871 906 9060
MAC – Cannon Hill Park 0121 446 3232
Mockingbird, Custard Factory 0121 224 7456.
Odeon Birmingham -Birmingham, 0871 224 4007
Odeon Broadway Plaza – Ladywood Middleway, 0333 006 7777
Odeon West Bromwich – Cronehills Linkway, West Bromwich 0333 006 7777
Reel – Hagley Rd, Quinton Halesowen 0121 421 5316
Showcase Walsall – Bentley Mill Way, Walsall 0871 220 1000
Vue Star City – Watson Road, 08712 240 240