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Posts Tagged ‘Christoph Waltz’

The legend of Robert Rodriguez began with the circumstances surrounding the making of his first film, El Mariachi, over twenty years ago now. Rodriguez said he only had a guitar case and a tortoise and so was obliged to make the best of what he had available. One suspects he was being somewhat disingenuous but it was generally accepted that the whole film was made on a budget of about $7,000, some of which the writer-director supposedly raised by allowing experimental medical research to be done on him. The path from a $7,000 micro-budget thriller to a $200 million special-effects blockbuster is probably not a well-trodden one, but here Rodriguez is, in charge of the long-gestating film adaptation of Battle Angel: Alita. (This project was overseen for a long time by Jim Cameron, who eventually departed as director when the umpty-tump Avatar sequels in the works demanded too much of his attention, and Rodriguez apparently insisted on a change of name to Alita: Battle Angel because Cameron’s last two films beginning with an A were massive critical and popular successes.)

Quite early on in Alita: Battle Angel one gets either a comforting sense of being in familiar territory or a sinking feeling that the film is just a load of repurposed old spare parts. We are in another one of those post-apocalyptic futures, some time in the 26th century, with most of the Earth laid waste by interplanetary war. One vast floating city has endured, and living in its shadow a grimy, lawless sprawl has sprung up, the population trapped in poverty, kept docile by watching violent combat sports, and all dreaming of a better life in the sky-metropolis.

One of the locals is cyber-surgeon and part-time bounty-hunter Dyson Ido (Christoph Waltz), who while picking over the junkheap beneath the sky-city discovers a preserved human brain in a cybernetic skull. He pops this into a full-body prosthetic chassis and the result is Alita (Rosa Salazar), a saucer-eyed waif with (naturally) superhuman reflexes, agility and ass-whupping skills. Alita has movie amnesia, presumably as a result of spending many decades as a brain in a can.

Well, it eventually turns out that someone is after Alita, who finds herself involved in various bounty-hunting exploits and a big set-piece sequence concerning the sport of Motorball, which is basically a gladiatorial variation on roller-boogie. Alita gets a love interest in the form of the non-threatening Hugo (Keann Johnson), and together they recycle many favourite old lines from the Big Book of Old Sci-Fi Chestnuts – ‘Does it matter that I’m not human?’ ‘You’re the most human person I know’, etc – during lulls in the plot. But what is Alita’s mysterious past? Who is her enigmatic nemesis? What is his beef with her, and just what is she prepared to do to stop him?

There are many things to be said about Alita: Battle Angel, but probably the most significant one is that after 122 minutes, with the closing credits rolling in front of me, I still really had no clue about the answers to most of these questions. The screenplay doesn’t contain a plot so much as a collection of scenes roughly connected to one another, without much sense of focus or direction. Obviously this is a comic book adaptation, and it does feel like one – in some of the more cartoony elements of the story, but also in the way that the writers have clearly taken a huge corpus of stories, concepts, ideas, and characters and tried to include every single one of their favourites in a single script. The film strains to accommodate all of them, and one of the things that gets pushed out is traditional narrative development and structure.

A good point of reference for Alita would be Ghost in the Shell from a couple of years ago – both big-budget effects-driven American-made adaptations of Japanese manga, with a cybernetic heroine having an identity crisis, although Alita seems to have dodged the usual wave of venom about whitewashing (the word ‘adaptation’ just doesn’t register sometimes, it would seem). Ghost in the Shell is apparently considered a box office bomb, and regular readers will recall I did predict the same fate in store for Alita, a forecast I am not inclined to alter having seen the finished film. If you’re going to spend $200 million on a movie, you need to be pretty sure that audiences are going to turn out in force to see it (ideally several times each), and there doesn’t seem to be that much excitement about Alita: Battle Angel.

(Given that Jim Cameron’s career has often revolved around his gambling large sums of money making projects that industry insiders and commentators were vocally dubious about, which then went on to be immensely successful, one wonders if this has been a factor in his being able to get Alita funded. If so, I suspect the backers are in for a nasty shock this time.)

Certainly the film is light on all the things that a film needs to have in order to justify such a large budget – the story is not well-known outside the cult ghetto, and the well-known faces who appear in it are really character actors in supporting roles (in addition to Waltz, Jennifer Connelly and Mahershala Ali turn up in unrewarding, mostly-villainous parts). Ghost in the Shell didn’t make an impact despite the fact it prominently featured Scarlett Johansson in a body stocking (if they’d actually called the movie Scarlett Johansson in a Body Stocking I suspect it might have done better business), and I am not sure a heavily CGI-modified version of the comparatively little-known Rosa Salazar will have quite as much appeal.

Seriously, one of the questionable decisions Cameron and Rodriguez have gone for is the one to put Salazar’s performance through the computer and turn her into something not entirely unakin to Gollum, but with better skin and hair. Quite apart from whether the CGI is photo-realistic or not (I still don’t think we’re quite there yet), someone with eyes quite so big is just intrusive and distracting, and a constant reminder that you’re watching a big effects movie – it just makes the film less immersive. Salazar’s actual performance is functional – she possibly overdoes the breathless innocent bit in the early part of the film, but copes reasonably well with many scenes where they weigh down a bit too heavily on the exposition and back story pedals. The central romance remains thoroughly unimpressive, though.

The film is not outright bad, but it only really shows signs of life and energy when it comes to the action sequences – the highlight is probably the Motorball match, which manages to be genuinely exciting despite all the CGI, even in 3D. But even here Alita is seldom really exceptional, and once again I just can’t see it cutting through to make much of an impact on the cinema landscape today. Every time I go to an SF film with this much hype around it – as previously noted, the publicity for Alita has been inescapable – I’m hoping for that extraordinary, giddy sense of being taken to a world totally unlike any I’ve seen before, and the accompanying feeling of breathless delight. This almost never happens – obviously it happened with the first stellar conflict movie, and also with The Matrix and to some extent with Inception. But most films inevitably fall short, and just prove to be a bit too obviously derivative or lacking in the basic storytelling virtues. Alita: Battle Angel is obviously the work of people with a high level of technical proficiency, but it isn’t the work of original, visionary brilliance that its publicity appears to be suggesting it is – certainly not to the point where it excuses poor storytelling. It’s okay – but no more than that.

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‘No imprint lingers so indelibly on the face of modern fantasy film as that of this obscure yet brilliant artist. All his films, no matter how tawdry, were marked with a brilliant personal vision,’ wrote the Australian critic and novelist John Baxter, referring to the American director Jack Arnold. There is, indeed, no reason for normal people to have any idea who Arnold was, but for the fact that he was responsible for some of the most vivid and memorable SF and fantasy films of the 1950s – films which are still hugely influential, to judge from the fact that The Shape of Water, currently enjoying thirteen Oscar nominations, seems to owe a distinct debt to Arnold’s Creature from the Black Lagoon, and Alexander Payne’s Downsizing likewise seems to have very much been made under the influence of Arnold’s The Incredible Shrinking Man. Can a remake of Tarantula by Werner Herzog be very far off?

Downsizing stars Matt Damon as Paul Safranek, a mild-mannered occupational therapist who is as surprised as everyone else when Norwegian scientists announce they have discovered the secret of ‘cellular reduction’ – a process where living creatures can be permanently and irreversibly shrunk, without suffering any ill-effects in the process. The benefit of this to the planet is an enormous reduction in the resources they consume and the waste they produce. The personal advantage to the shrunken folk is that their money stretches much further, allowing them to enjoy a luxurious standard of living within the sealed communities in which they live.

Encouraged by an old friend, Paul persuades his wife Audrey (Kristen Wiig) to sell up and move down to Leisureland, one of the largest of the communities of small people. All is set fair for them to commence the new existence of their dreams. But, of course, events conspire to sabotage Paul’s dream. Though there are new friends to be made in Leisureland (Christoph Waltz and Hong Chau amongst them), it turns out the place has a darker side, one which causes him to question his assumptions about life…

Alexander Payne may not personally have the secret of miniaturisation, but he certainly seems to have figured out how to polarise an audience: Downsizing is one of those films which seems to have received a very lukewarm reception, judging by the critical aggregation sites. Looking a little closer indicates that this is one of those films which people seem to love or hate in pretty much equal numbers.

I can understand why some people might respond negatively to this movie: beyond the fact that it’s obviously a science fiction film, it’s quite difficult to say with complete certainty what kind of story it is telling. Is it a satire? Is it pure comedy? Is it a drama? Is it something more philosophical? Certainly at times it seems to be all of those things. The lengthy running time is also probably an issue, especially when coupled to the apparent lack of focus: negative reviews of this movie often include words like ‘rambling’ and ‘meandering’.

I have to say that I am in the other camp, and found Downsizing thoroughly enjoyable and absorbing entertainment, not least because of the way it defies easy categorisation, beyond SF. Now, I have to say that as actual serious science fiction the movie is on very shaky grounds. While the script quite sensibly declines to go into the details of just how cellular reduction works, I’m still pretty sure that if you did shrink someone down to roughly 0.03% of their natural size, not only would they have severe difficulty in maintaining their body temperature without constantly snacking, they would also be unable to breathe (their lungs would be unable to process the now relatively-giant air molecules).

Once you get past that, however, this is an impressive and rather commendable attempt at a proper piece of genuine SF. One of the reasons for the unusual structure of the film is that it takes a particular concept – in this case, the notion of human shrinking – and explores it in a relatively systematic and comprehensive way. Just how would the world be changed? The film eschews the action-horror staples generally associated with size-change in SF and thinks in wider terms – how would it affect society? How could the technology be used and abused? (Despots start shrinking dissidents, for instance, who then start trying to enter the USA via some fairly unusual routes.) Once again, the economics as posited by the movie strike me as a little wonky, but I am prepared to cut it some slack: very often, SF ideas in films come with a single metaphor baked in, which the film then laboriously articulates over and over.

Downsizing treats the shrinking process as a piece of technology, rather than a metaphor-made-real, and one of its most drolly amusing sequences is the one in which we see Damon being processed – exactly how the mass-miniaturisation of new residents takes place has been worked out in some detail. The question is rather one of what the process reveals or illuminates about the human condition and our society in general, and the shift in perspective is enough to make one see the situation inside the shrunken colony in a new light. There are some striking moments of revelation, the heady stuff of proper science fiction.

In the end, though, the film seems to me to be mainly about the nature of life and particularly what it means to live well. Several possibilities seem to be offered in the course of the film – does a good life mean the absence of every little inconvenience and problem? Is it the luxurious materialistic hedonism promised by Leisureland’s advertising programme? Is it in taking a longer view and acting in the best interests of humanity as a whole? In the course of the film, the different characters make their choices, and I can easily imagine viewers emerging with differing opinions as to who is right and who is wrong.

The film is well-realised, with some striking visual moments, and Matt Damon gives a quietly impressive performance as something of an everyman, someone struggling to find his place in the world. The support from the likes of Waltz, Chau, and Udo Kier is also good. The film has a consistent inventiveness which means it is frequently thought-provoking and occasionally very funny. As you can tell, I was rather charmed by it, and willing to go along on the journey even when it sometimes seemed unclear where the film was taking me. There is much here to enjoy and think about; this is one of the best SF movies of recent years.

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Ubiquity can turn into obscurity very quickly sometimes. Westerns used to be a staple of every studio in Hollywood, one of the primary mainstream genres, but big studio cowboy films are rarer than hen’s teeth these days – the ones that get made more often than not have an art-housey whiff about them. But something even more extreme seems to have happened with respect to the celluloid exploits of Edgar Rice Burroughs’ most famous creation, Tarzan of the Apes.

Let’s talk numbers: the first Tarzan film came out in 1918, a mind-boggling 98 years ago, with the jungle lord played by Elmo Lincoln. Since then, twenty actors have put on the loincloth to appear in over fifty movies (including perhaps the best-known dozen starring Johnny Weissmuller). Arthur C Clarke used to claim that Tarzan was the most famous fictional character of all time, and based on sheer bulk of product, only Sherlock Holmes and perhaps Dracula can offer him any real competition.

And yet, since about 1970, it has gone rather quiet in the jungle, in live-action terms at least: a risible soft-core vehicle for Bo Derek in 1981, a lavish but oddly joyless ‘quality’ take on the character in 1984’s Greystoke, and an obscure little 1998 movie with Caspar van Dien. Have audiences finally got sick of Tarzan and all the trappings of his films? Or are there other, more problematic reasons for his disappearance?

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Warner Brothers have gambled nearly $200m on the proposition that people miss Tarzan and want to spend more time with him, and the result is David Yates’ The Legend of Tarzan. Yates’ film is set in 1890 and as things get underway our hero (Alexander Skarsgard) has forsworn his jungle home and taken up the title and duties of John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, back in the UK (it’s suggested his grandfather is still alive, which inevitably makes one wonder why he’s inherited the title, but let’s not get too pedantic about this: it’s a Tarzan movie, after all). He is fairly happily married to the lovely Jane (Margot Robbie) and seems content.

However, when the King of Belgium extends an invitation for Clayton to visit the Belgian Congo, he is urged to accept it by American diplomat and adventurer George Washington Williams (Samuel L Jackson), as this will get them access to the otherwise-sealed country so they can investigate disturbing rumours of slavery and other crimes. (It turns out Williams was an actual historical person, who ended up buried in Blackpool, bizarrely enough. That doesn’t stop Samuel L Jackson doing his Samuel L Jackson-wisecracking-sidekick routine, of course.) Jane insists on coming along as well.

But, of course, there is more going on than first appears to be the case: the nefarious Belgian envoy Leon Rom (Christoph Waltz) is intent on subjugating the country for his royal master, but needs funds to do so. The chief (Djimon Hounsou) of a diamond-rich area has promised Rom all the money he needs, in exchange for the man who killed his son – Tarzan… (It turns out Rom was also an actual historical person, although one whose actual fate was rather different from the one depicted here. That doesn’t stop Christoph Waltz doing his Christoph Waltz-fastidious-psychopath routine, of course.)

Well, it occurs to me that in the past I have only said fairly lukewarm things about David Yates (and when it came to his briefly-mooted Doctor Who movie, some downright sharp ones). ‘Safe pair of hands’ was about the nicest thing I said while he was knocking out the last four Harry Potter films. I suspect that The Legend of Tarzan is not going to make the same kind of world-conquering returns, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a solid piece of entertainment, nor a rather ambitious film, in its own way, and one for which Yates should be commended.

I think it’s fair to say that, Greystoke and a few others excepted, most Tarzan movies have essentially been rather generic jungle adventures with only a vague connection to Edgar Rice Burroughs’ original stories – the Weissmuller-and-after characterisation as a semi-articulate half-savage bears very little resemblance to the fiercely intelligent character in the novels. The first plus point for The Legend of Tarzan is that it does seem to be trying to respect Burroughs, in spirit if not detail – Skarsgard’s Tarzan is a thoughtful man equally at home in the jungle and the House of Lords, and the mangani apes who raised him are referred to by name, which I think is a first. Set against this is some apparent confusion over which Earl of Greystoke Tarzan is and the decision to set the film in 1890, when the ‘canonical’ Tarzan was only two, which has presumably been taken to facilitate the film’s historical setting, which is crucial to its conception.

If there’s a single reason why Tarzan movies have fallen out of favour in the last thirty or forty years, it’s because the character is perceived as being intrinsically rather problematic. The idea of a white man using his natural gifts and abilities to rise to become master of the African jungle and its inhabitants is, to say the least, awkward in our post-colonial world, where issues of race and superiority are still very delicate fault-lines running through society.

Yates’ movie tries to get round this by making the whole film about colonialism and the exploitation of Africa by white Europeans, hence its attempts to reference the real-life events in the Congo and the inclusion of real-life figures such as Williams and Rom. Pitting Tarzan against the worst face of colonial exploitation should deflect any criticism that he’s just a colonial-exploiter poster-boy himself – that seems to be the theory, at least. Coupled to this is an energetic attempt to present Tarzan and the rest of the supporting cast as thoroughly reconstructed figures – he’s in tune with nature and treats his African friends as equals, while Jane is liberated, capable and terribly feisty, Williams is stricken with guilt over his role in atrocities against Native Americans, and so on. You can never quite get away from the fact that this is a film in which the Congo and its people are saved primarily by a white dude in a pair of shorts, but the film-makers do everything humanly possible to mitigate against this.

And, while doing so, they include nearly all the stuff you really want to see in a Tarzan movie – swinging on lianas, talking to animals, fighting whole mobs of opponents single-handed, and so on. My companion while watching this movie said later that she thought it was all rather far-fetched, but when I suggested she just consider Tarzan to be the first superhero, it all seemed to make a bit more sense to her. On the other hand, Skarsgard doesn’t get to wrestle a crocodile, alas, and the film is a little coy when it comes to the famous ‘Aaaa-eyahh-ahh-eyahh-eyahh!!!’ cry, too.

That said, The Legend of Tarzan manages to take itself impressively seriously – this isn’t a spoof, or at all knowing, or tongue-in-cheek – without appearing quite as po-faced as Greystoke arguably was. I was honestly rather impressed by the whole enterprise – the performances are universally strong, the camerawork is atmospheric, and the script intelligent. It’s a good, extremely watchable adventure movie. And there’s some space left to be filled in by any future movies from this team of film-makers; for once, I wouldn’t mind seeing a sequel. If we are still living in a world in which Tarzan movies are a viable proposition – and I must confess to hoping that we are – then this is a very good template as to how they should be approached.

 

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One piece of news which got relatively little attention in the days just after Casino Royale was released, back in 2006, was of the passing of veteran film-maker Kevin McClory. McClory’s name was not widely known but he was in many ways a key figure in the history of the Bond films, for all that his name only appears in the credits of a couple of them: McClory and his supporters, if no-one else, were in no doubt that the massive, decades-long success of the Bond franchise was in no small part due to the work McClory put into reconceiving Ian Fleming’s literary creation as a big-screen hero with global appeal (the most immediate product of that work being the novel Thunderball, based on a film script co-written by McClory and Fleming – McClory’s involvement being the reason why he retained the rights to make his own non-Eon version of the script, Never Say Never Again).

One consequence of the seemingly-endless tussle over rights between McClory and Eon was a decision for the official movies not to use certain characters and concepts to which McClory had been assigned ownership. With all this now resolved, one way or the other, the way has been cleared for something which I and many other veteran Bond-followers would never have anticipated coming to pass.

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Or, to put it another way, Sam Mendes’ SPECTRE. Following up the huge critical and popular success of Skyfall might have been an intimidating prospect, but the new film is loaded with enough tantalising concepts to make one forget about all of that. Things get underway with a bit of incidental mayhem in Mexico City, where the Day of the Dead is lavishly staged (and Mendes shows he means business by opening with a hugely extended Touch of Evil-style opening shot, which so far as I could see only has one obvious cheat in it).

It transpires that Bond (Daniel Craig) is following his own private agenda, rather to the annoyance of M (Ralph Fiennes). 007 has been put on the trail of an international criminal organisation known as SPECTRE and is intent on following it, orders or not. This leads him to Rome and a very well-scrubbed-up widow (Monica Belucci), then into the heart of his enemies’ schemes, before travelling on to Austria and north Africa, accompanied much of the time by a beautiful young doctor (Lea Seydoux), whose father Bond has occasionally made the acquaintance of in the past.

While all this is going on, M and the rest of the Secret Service team back in London find themselves under a bureaucratic assault by a new intelligence agency headed by the mysterious C (Andrew Scott). C believes Bond’s section is obselete and is determined to see him replaced both by drones and near-unlimited surveillance. But could there possibly be a connection between this and the case Bond is working…?

I know the question you are wanting to ask (always assuming you haven’t seen the film yet, or read its Wikipedia entry, or looked at a review with spoilers in it) – is there a cat in this movie? Well, on the tiny off-chance you don’t know yet, I feel obliged to keep quiet. What I will say is that the film-makers seem very well-aware that the return of SPECTRE and its leader (maybe) is a huge deal for dedicated Bond-watchers – the organisation was the main opposition in most of the Connery films, and involved with some of the most iconic Bond moments and characters. In a similar vein, the new film retcons like mad to establish that virtually all of Daniel Craig’s previous opponents have been SPECTRE operatives of various stripes, whether this really makes sense or not (it seems logical that Quantum was SPECTRE operating under another name, but not really that Silva from Skyfall was on the payroll).

Keeping at least the pretence of mystery over the SPECTRE top man’s return (or not) is presumably the reason why the film works terribly hard to wrong-foot the viewer, throwing all kinds of misdirections and double-bluffs into the pot. Is it effective or not? I really can’t say, but I do wonder whether it’s worth the effort.

Similarly questionable is the decision to establish that (and this barely constitutes a spoiler) there is a long-standing personal connection between Bond and senior SPECTRE figure Franz Oberhauser (Christoph Waltz). What this brings to the story is really unclear, to say nothing of the monumental coincidence involved – it’s not even as if the script and performances suggest these two men have any kind of shared history together. There seems to have been a belief that the story is improved by giving Bond a personal stake in it.

I’m not sure that’s the case, and SPECTRE‘s attempts (as a continuation of Skyfall) to make a Bond movie into something of a sophisticated psychological drama arguably get in the way of it doing all the slightly outrageous, larger-than-life things a lot of people want from Bond. The dear personal friend and valued colleague occupying the workspace contiguous with mine gloomily observed that he felt he didn’t need to see another Bond film ever again, so dragged down to earth has the series become. (Another friend thought it was basically ‘a kid’s film’, although I must say it contains more eye-gouging and skull-drilling than the usual Pixar production.)

Despite all this, I must say I enjoyed most of SPECTRE hugely, as its attempts to reconcile many of the classic Bond staples with a non-ridiculous sensibility are fairly successful. Craig is by now thoroughly comfortable and convincing as Bond, Waltz is very good as the villain (or not), the stuntwork is imaginative and impressive, and there are some very decent jokes. (Although as top SPECTRE heavy Mr Hinx, Dave Bautista is used in an ever-so-slightly perfunctory fashion.) Ever since Eon first cast Judi Dench, these films have had to come up with things for the distinguished actors playing the regulars to do, and this continues here, with bumped-up parts for M, Q, and Moneypenny, but the performers are good enough for this not to be a problem.

The real problem for me comes at the end of the film. One of the things brought to light by the Sony hacking scandal was the existence of a pile of studio notes worried about the fact that SPECTRE‘s climax was both undercooked and underwhelming – and based on the finished movie, I have to say the studio definitely had a point. What’s more, the end of the film is almost the cinematic equivalent of a suspended chord – you’re not so much invited to expect something, you’re almost compelled to, and yet the film doesn’t deliver what seemed to have been promising. I was almost tempted to sit through the entirety of the credits to see if the pay-off arrived in a post-credits scene, but this doesn’t appear to be the case.

Oh well. I suppose it must be a sign of Eon’s confidence that a further movie is bound to happen (and after 53 years, who’s going to argue with them?). I’m still not completely convinced that the Craig formula, such as it is, is quite guaranteed to meet audience expectations, but it would take a bolder writer than I to say that SPECTRE is anything other than very impressive , even if only as a piece of spectacle.

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So, I found myself once again in the position of having seen virtually everything on at the sweetshop and coffeeshop, and with the Phoenix shut for refurbishment again, the situation demanded I look into reaches of the schedule I am not usually wont to visit. This left me with the options of Nativity 3: Dude, Where’s My Donkey?, Paddington Bear: The Movie, and Horrible Bosses 2. I’ll admit that the final decision was not entirely mine alone, but you don’t want to read about a lot of wrangling over what to see. You want to read a review of Horrible Bosses 2. At least, I hope you do. If not, you may as well be on your way, for that is the business of the day.

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Now, I must confess that I did consider going to see the original Horrible Bosses in 2011, but some sixth sense told me my time might be better spent elsewhere (which may explain the rash of golden-oldie Planet of the Apes reviews around the time the first film came out). However, I was assured that – if this one was anything like its predecessor – a knowledge of the plot would not be required for full appreciation of its nuances.

Anyway, as Sean Anders’ film opens, we are introduced to Nick (Jason Bateman), Kurt (Jason Sudeikis), and Dale (Charlie Dale), three guys who are trying to make it as entrepreneurs and appearing on TV to promote their latest idea for a shower fitting. (It eventually transpires that Kurt is a softly-spoken moron, Charlie is a very noisy moron, and Nick, though not a moron, inevitably seems to find himself dragged along in the wake of the other two.) The opening sequence of the film does a pretty good job of establishing the tone of proceedings, in that its comic credentials are based on some infelicitious camera angles appearing to show Dale giving manual relief to and fellating Kurt, and the fact that their company name, when spoken too quickly, sounds like a racial slur.

While I was coming to the conclusion that this was not exactly going to be Bringing Up Baby, the plot progressed, with the trio going into business with the wealthy and ruthless Hanson family, personified by Burt (Christoph Waltz) and his son Rex (Chris Pine). It comes as no surprise when the Hansons make the the most of the fact the main characters are, well, morons, viciously exploiting them and leaving them horribly in debt, with only a short time to raise $500,000 or lose their company.

So what are a trio of morons going to do in such dire straits? Are they going to seek legal advice? No, of course not. Are they going to try and find a new business partner or backer to help them with their financial woes? No. Are they going to engage in a frankly stupid scheme to kidnap Rex Hanson and ransom him back to his father for the money they need? Well, obviously. There are a few scenes where Jennifer Aniston turns up as a sex-addicted dentist, but, you know, they’re not exactly central.

Anyway, the other day I was reading an article where a bunch of professional writers chose the expressions they would like to see deleted from the lexicon – one chose ‘Mary Sue’, another went for ‘info dump’, and so on, on the grounds they had become debased or lost any essential meaning. (I couldn’t help smelling a rat – I suspect some of them might have wanted to get rid of the expression ‘this is a bad book’, to stop that from appearing in reviews as well.) One of the choices was the term ‘idiot plot’, which is shorthand for any story which only works if all the main characters behave like unreasonable idiots.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, whatever you think of Mary Sue or info dump, I am absolutely certain that idiot plot retains some critical value, and the proof of that is the existence of a film like Horrible Bosses 2. If any of the main characters acted remotely like an actual human being the story would never take place. But the story has to happen and so they blunder and bumble on in a wholly incredible way.

I have to say, however, that I’m not entirely averse to a bit of absurd slapstick, provided it’s genuinely funny, and my problems with Horrible Bosses 2 don’t really arise from the fact that the story is so silly. ‘Silly’ isn’t entirely fair, to be honest: the plot itself is actually fairly inventive in some ways, and not quite as simplistic as you might expect. My main problem is that the tone of the thing is so – and how do I put this without coming over all Mary Whitehouse? – adolescent.

The kind of jokes featuring in the opening scene continue throughout the film, which also features wall-to-wall profanity, various glib jokes about rape, a little mild racial abuse, the objectification of women, and so on. None of this is really my thing, I will admit, and it may just be that I’m a failing old man who’s lost his sense of humour. However, from various reviews I’ve read of other modern American comedy films, I get the impression that this has become de rigeur for the form: there seems to be the belief that audiences just aren’t interested in going to see a funny film unless half the jokes are explicitly sexual and it has a three-figure F-bomb count.

Is this really the case? I’m not sure. Certainly, in the case of Horrible Bosses 2, I thought I could discern a fast, slick, and very silly comedy-thriller choking to death under the onslaught of ‘adult’ humour. I did eventually laugh at this film, despite attempting not to on principle: it was at a joke about someone using an indelible marker on a whiteboard, something I can empathise with myself (hey, that’s my kind of humour). Also, Jason Bateman does give a genuinely funny deadpan performance as someone who knows that he should know better.

I did still find this a rather baffling experience, however, partly because – despite everything – I cannot find it in my heart to come out and say that Horrible Bosses 2 is an outright bad movie. The makers clearly had a specific objective in mind – a very crude, very silly comedy, with its profile raised by the presence of some big name actors – and this is indeed what they’ve ended up with. (Kevin Spacey amiably chews the scenery in his tiny cameo, but it rather seems to me that Jamie Foxx’s gangster is essentially a one-joke character.) I’m just not sure why they would choose to make this particular film, when there is plenty of evidence on display that they are capable of making something cleverer and much more accessible to a less juvenile audience.

In the end, however, I have to stick to talking about the film they made, not the ones they could have made. And the film that they made is more dismaying than anything approaching hilarious, not least because everyone involved is clearly capable of so much better.

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We appear to have reached an interesting point in the evolution of the superhero picture as a distinct genre in its own right. This kind of movie now seems to be enough of a fixture for film-makers to be able to start playing with its conventions without worrying about the audience not getting the joke. To be fair, this has been happening for a quite a while – most notably in 2008’s Hancock – but I was reminded of it while watching Michel Gondry’s The Green Hornet.

In the UK, at least, the Green Hornet’s name-recognition factor probably rates around the same as that of characters like Archie the Jungle Robot or Captain Hurricane, which is to say he’s incredibly obscure. To be strictly accurate, the Hornet isn’t really a superhero at all, originally appearing as a masked vigilante in a pulp-derived radio show in the mid-1930s (and thus predating the first true superheroes). Still, these days he tends to get lumped in with them and Gondry’s movie is no exception to this.

Oafish slacker Britt Reid (Seth Rogan) finds his life changes forever when his newspaper-publisher father (Tom Wilkinson, sort-of slumming it) dies, leaving him in charge of the family company. Now an oafish millionaire, Britt takes to spending time with his employee Kato (Jay Chou), but when a prank takes an unexpected turn the two find themselves unexpectedly becoming vigilantes – a role Britt is keen to pursue further, adopting the persona of faux-villain the Green Hornet and enlisting Kato as his accomplice. After all, they make the perfect team – Kato bringing his coffee-making skills, and also expertise in weapon design, vehicle construction, and spectacular martial arts to the partnership, while Britt brings… Britt brings… well, basically he just shouts a lot and falls over. Little does Britt realise that his activities as the Hornet are causing some turmoil to local crime boss Chudnofsky (Christoph Waltz), only exacerbating the mid-life crisis the poor man’s already going through. Sure enough, a show-down between the two is soon on the cards…

As you can probably tell, The Green Hornet functions at least partly as a comedy, which is a brave way to go with an established and indeed venerable character. A few years ago, plans to do a comedy version of the DC character Green Lantern starring Jack Black were rapidly abandoned when they were met with bared fangs from the fanbase – so either the Hornet’s fanbase just doesn’t care or there aren’t enough of them to be worth cultivating.

It’s the comedy element that makes this film distinctive, anyway. It’s not what I’d describe as a mainstream comedy – it’s a little more oddball and deadpan than that in places, as one might expect with Gondry on the case. I found Waltz’s performance particular droll, as he experiments with various increasingly absurd gimmicks and catchphrases in an attempt to be a more interesting criminal. Elsewhere things are a tad more conventional, as Cameron Diaz shows up to deploy her comedic skills in the usual charming way, and Seth Rogan… well, shouts and falls over a lot. (Also in the cast, James Franco is uncredited, Edward Furlong is unrecognisable, and Bruce Lee – whose association with a previous version of The Green Hornet may be the only reason the character’s endured – is given due reverence.)

That said, this isn’t a pure comedy by any means, and in places the film does make a grab at moments of genuine gravity and emotion not entirely unlike some of those in The Dark Knight (a brave move, given that that film has set the gold standard for superhero movies). As a result the tone is extremely choppy in places, as the clashing styles bang into one another. The script, overall, does the job, although some of the storytelling just isn’t up to scratch (characters have dialogue like ‘As you know, I was your father’s most trusted employee for thirty-five years…’ So why are you telling him that, other than for the audience’s benefit?). It improves as it goes on, and the cheerfully destructive climax picked me up and swept me along by virtue of its sheer energy and bravado.

The Green Hornet isn’t what you’d call a truly great movie, and some elements of it definitely work better than others, but on the whole I was rather entertained by it. If there’s a place amongst superhero comics for more left-field fare, as well as the big-name characters, then hopefully the same is true for superhero movies too. Anyone interested in funding my expressionist rom-com adaptation of Squirrel Girl?

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