Last week was a week of movie connections. On Monday, I saw Selma with David Oyelowo and Alessandro Nivola, who were also in A Most Violent Year, which also starred Oscar Isaac, who was in Alex Garland's new film Ex Machina, which I watched on Saturday. Ex Machina is also a film with many connections, although other than Isaac, it stars only a handful of characters. It is a fun and thought-provoking sci-fi thriller about one man's ambitious and megalomaniacal effort to build the ultimate artificial intelligence and secure his name in the history books.
At the start of the film, wide-eyed young coder Caleb (Domhnall Gleeson) wins a competition to spend one week with Nathan (Isaac), the brilliant, mysterious and reclusive CEO of his company, BlueBook, which is named for Wittgenstein's notebook and runs the world's biggest search engine. Caleb is dropped off by helicopter in the middle of nowhere, which is in fact where Nathan makes his home and runs his research lab. "I'm hot on high-level abstraction", Caleb tells his boss, quick to impress and seriously in awe of Nathan and the luxurious, high-tech lifestyle his boss leads, but Nathan just tells him to relax and they can be buddies.
Nathan soon reveals that the reason for Caleb's visit is that he wants the coder to run the Turing test on his newest AI creation, which he has named Ava (Alicia Vikander). Don't worry if you don't know what the Turing test is, because Caleb expositions it very well! Ava has Alicia Vikander's face and human arms but an undeniably robotic body, made of metal and glass, and as she moves, her joints whir slightly in a not unpleasant way. On a side note, every time Caleb says, "Ava", I kind of expect her to reply, "WALL-E", but alas, she does not.
As her 'father' owns the world's biggest search engine, Ava has the benefit of vast, vast amounts of data input from people's searches, and micro-expression data from image and video uploads. Caleb is impressed by Ava's ability to look, act and converse like a human and he also wonders whether it is possible for him to be attracted to an AI — she certainly seems to have taken a shine to him. But as the week progresses, Caleb is learning more about his boss, as well as about Ava, and not all of it is good. Nathan appears quite unstable at times, often getting wildly drunk and being rude and handsy with the help, and just generally giving the impression that he wants to build the best AI because he wants to be the best and to prove it to the world. For the second time in as many movies, could Oscar Isaac's ego be his biggest downfall?
Ex Machina is Garland's directorial debut and I was seriously impressed. Yes, it's a bit silly in places, but he has created a taut, intense thriller that will leave you guessing as to the outcome. Isaac and Vikander, in particular, put in brilliant performances; Gleeson is mainly playing the same character he usually plays, but he makes a likeable foil to his boss and his boss's AI. There is a lot of really interesting AI research going on in the real world at the moment, which is one of the reasons why Ex Machina is so compelling and so powerful. Garland makes us wonder how long it will be before Ava-like AIs are created—if they haven't been created already—and what might happen to humanity when it happens.
It's also nice to see another film about computer science, after the early stages of the field being depicted in The Imitation Game. And was it just me, or did I see a painting of Ada Lovelace on one of Nathan's cool, stark walls? If so, good on Garland and the film-makers.
26 January 2015
24 January 2015
"I Spent My Whole Life Trying Not To Be a Gangster — and Now They're Gonna Own Me"
J.C. Chandor is a master of films that put good (or apparently good) people in impossible situations. Take the slick Margin Call, for example, or, in all likelihood, Chandor's next film, Deepwater Horizon. Both Margin Call and his latest movie, A Most Violent Year, are cautionary tales about the perils of doing business in the late 20th and early 21st centuries, and about the power and allure of the American Dream and the fallout when it turns into a nightmare.
A Most Violent Year portrays an almost unrecognisable New York City in 1981—the titular violent year—a full decade before the city's fabled drop in crime rates. Abel Morales (Oscar Isaac) is our American Dreamer and Good Person: an immigrant and self-made businessman who owns his own heating oil company. As the film opens, he is about to close a deal to buy a huge storage facility, which would give him control of the market, guaranteeing financial security and allowing him to fulfil his ambitious expectations. He puts down a huge deposit, which he risks losing if he cannot produce the necessary funds to purchase the facility within 30 days.
I wondered if the film was going to become a Merchant of Venice retelling, with Abel as Antonio, but instead, we start to see the fragility of Abel's position. His competitors and others are attacking his drivers and stealing his oil, and his drivers beg him to be allowed to carry guns with which to defend themselves, but Abel violently disagrees. Inevitably, it isn't long before one such attack gets out of hand and the consequent PR crisis is so nightmarish that it causes an ambitious DA (David Oyelowo) to investigate Abel's books more closely and a sure-thing bank loan to dissipate, leaving Abel high and dry.
He is also pretty high and mighty. His wife Anna (Jessica Chastain) is the daughter of an infamous Brooklyn gangster and it is implied that some of their wealth may have come from him or, at least, because of his behind-the-scenes influence. Abel, understandably, wants to make his own way and to be the architect of his own success, and he wants to do business in a way that he can be proud of and that will make his daughters proud. As the DA circles closer and the violent threats to his business become more serious, you can only wonder whether Abel's single-minded ambition will also be his downfall. "I've always been a bit more afraid of failure than of anything else," he says—and we believe him.
Isaac is great as the ambiguous protagonist whom you can't help but want to succeed. He isn't perfect, as Isaac's performance reflects, but he tries to do the right thing while also trying to triumph—he reminded me a bit of Tom Hardy's portrayal of the lead character in Locke. Chastain also puts in a strong performance playing against type: gangster's daughter, nouveau riche Anna is a far cry from the sweet, ethereal characters she usually plays. Underneath the bad dye job, the red lipstick and the tough veneer, though, Chastain gives Anna a certain vulnerability that seeps out from time to time — when she isn't busy shooting dead a wounded stag that her husband couldn't work up the courage to kill, that is.
Chandor's film is an interesting mix of killer instincts and instinctive killers. A Most Violent Year is a compelling tale of corruption, competition and complacency. It clocks in at just over two hours, but it will keep you on the edge of your seat as it weaves its way through a dirty, bloody, dangerous New York City.
A Most Violent Year portrays an almost unrecognisable New York City in 1981—the titular violent year—a full decade before the city's fabled drop in crime rates. Abel Morales (Oscar Isaac) is our American Dreamer and Good Person: an immigrant and self-made businessman who owns his own heating oil company. As the film opens, he is about to close a deal to buy a huge storage facility, which would give him control of the market, guaranteeing financial security and allowing him to fulfil his ambitious expectations. He puts down a huge deposit, which he risks losing if he cannot produce the necessary funds to purchase the facility within 30 days.
I wondered if the film was going to become a Merchant of Venice retelling, with Abel as Antonio, but instead, we start to see the fragility of Abel's position. His competitors and others are attacking his drivers and stealing his oil, and his drivers beg him to be allowed to carry guns with which to defend themselves, but Abel violently disagrees. Inevitably, it isn't long before one such attack gets out of hand and the consequent PR crisis is so nightmarish that it causes an ambitious DA (David Oyelowo) to investigate Abel's books more closely and a sure-thing bank loan to dissipate, leaving Abel high and dry.
He is also pretty high and mighty. His wife Anna (Jessica Chastain) is the daughter of an infamous Brooklyn gangster and it is implied that some of their wealth may have come from him or, at least, because of his behind-the-scenes influence. Abel, understandably, wants to make his own way and to be the architect of his own success, and he wants to do business in a way that he can be proud of and that will make his daughters proud. As the DA circles closer and the violent threats to his business become more serious, you can only wonder whether Abel's single-minded ambition will also be his downfall. "I've always been a bit more afraid of failure than of anything else," he says—and we believe him.
Isaac is great as the ambiguous protagonist whom you can't help but want to succeed. He isn't perfect, as Isaac's performance reflects, but he tries to do the right thing while also trying to triumph—he reminded me a bit of Tom Hardy's portrayal of the lead character in Locke. Chastain also puts in a strong performance playing against type: gangster's daughter, nouveau riche Anna is a far cry from the sweet, ethereal characters she usually plays. Underneath the bad dye job, the red lipstick and the tough veneer, though, Chastain gives Anna a certain vulnerability that seeps out from time to time — when she isn't busy shooting dead a wounded stag that her husband couldn't work up the courage to kill, that is.
Chandor's film is an interesting mix of killer instincts and instinctive killers. A Most Violent Year is a compelling tale of corruption, competition and complacency. It clocks in at just over two hours, but it will keep you on the edge of your seat as it weaves its way through a dirty, bloody, dangerous New York City.
23 January 2015
The Caffeine Chronicles: Iris & June Review
I had heard great things at Victoria-based coffee shop and café Iris & June, but I'm so rarely in the Victoria area — it's a bit of a faff to get there from Bermondsey. On Saturday, though, all he stars aligned: I went to a lunchtime screening of American Sniper at the Curzon Victoria, which is just around the corner, and Iris & June was the perfect brunch spot.
Iris & June is on a quiet street, near the back entrance of House of Fraser. Inside, the décor is gorgeous: all clean white lines, and pops of mint, blue and grey. There are plenty of tables for drinking-in, and although it was a little dimly it, I did visit on a fairly brutal grey winter's day.
After nabbing a table, I went to order my coffee and food. Refreshingly, Iris & June serves hand-brewed coffee made with an Aeropress or a V60, but I opted for an Aeropress brew (£4) with the Ethiopian Yirgacheffe variety from Ozone that they were serving. Sandows Cold Brew was also on offer — maybe in another season or two! I love Acme's colourful cups at best of times, but I particularly liked the mint and grey combos resting on top of the La Marzocco.
The coffee was great — I always like a good Yirgacheffe — fruity, full-bodied and just what I needed to perk me up before a two-hour war film. It didn't hurt that it looked so great in the Acme cup and saucer. I may have found my new Instagram profile picture!
There are probably lots of nice breakfast and lunch items on sale at Iris & June, but if I'm honest, I didn't look any further than the fancy breakfast sandwich (£5.90) that immediately caught my eye: fried egg, sausages, homemade tomato relish and rocket on a crusty brown roll. It was massive but so tasty that I had to eat it all. It would have been rude not to.
If you're in the vicinity of Victoria or St James's Park, do stop by Iris & June: it's a lovely café.
Iris & June. 1 Howick Place, London, SW1P 1WG (Tube: Victoria or St James's Park). Website. Twitter.
Iris & June is on a quiet street, near the back entrance of House of Fraser. Inside, the décor is gorgeous: all clean white lines, and pops of mint, blue and grey. There are plenty of tables for drinking-in, and although it was a little dimly it, I did visit on a fairly brutal grey winter's day.
After nabbing a table, I went to order my coffee and food. Refreshingly, Iris & June serves hand-brewed coffee made with an Aeropress or a V60, but I opted for an Aeropress brew (£4) with the Ethiopian Yirgacheffe variety from Ozone that they were serving. Sandows Cold Brew was also on offer — maybe in another season or two! I love Acme's colourful cups at best of times, but I particularly liked the mint and grey combos resting on top of the La Marzocco.
The coffee was great — I always like a good Yirgacheffe — fruity, full-bodied and just what I needed to perk me up before a two-hour war film. It didn't hurt that it looked so great in the Acme cup and saucer. I may have found my new Instagram profile picture!
There are probably lots of nice breakfast and lunch items on sale at Iris & June, but if I'm honest, I didn't look any further than the fancy breakfast sandwich (£5.90) that immediately caught my eye: fried egg, sausages, homemade tomato relish and rocket on a crusty brown roll. It was massive but so tasty that I had to eat it all. It would have been rude not to.
If you're in the vicinity of Victoria or St James's Park, do stop by Iris & June: it's a lovely café.
Iris & June. 1 Howick Place, London, SW1P 1WG (Tube: Victoria or St James's Park). Website. Twitter.
21 January 2015
"Negotiate, Demonstrate, Resist"
I only found out about Odeon's Screen Unseen programme this month, but I was intrigued and bought a ticket for this month's screening on Monday night. Essentially, you pay £5 for an advance screening of a surprise film ("not your typical Hollywood fare. These are films that are edgy, intriguing, controversial and thought-provoking"), which is unveiled on the night. Odeon gives away a few clues on Twitter and I was pretty confident that I had worked out that we were going to see Ava DuVernay's Selma — the fact that the screening was on Martin Luther King Day only sealed the deal — and I was right.
Selma is the last film of this year's Best Picture Oscar nominees that I've watched and it wasn't my favourite, but it is an important and well-told film with stand-out performances from David Oyelowo and Carmen Ejogo as Martin Luther King Jr and Coretta Scott King. The film opens in 1964. King is about to receive his Nobel Peace Prize while his wife frets over his outfit. He wonders, wryly, what the brothers back home would think of his fancy attire. Meanwhile, a few months earlier in a church in Birmingham, Alabama, four young girls are full of admiration for Coretta but—within moments—the building is violently blown to pieces.
The film takes place in the few months between the Nobel ceremony in late 1964 and the protest marches in spring 1965 between the titular Selma, Alabama, and the state capital Montgomery, some 50 miles east. King is campaigning hard with President Lyndon B. Johnson (Tom Wilkinson) over the lack of enforcement of the recent law permitting African Americans to vote in some states, especially Alabama where Governor George Wallace (Tim Roth) prefers the status quo.
King and some of his fellow activists in the Southern Christian Leadership Conference visit a few Alabama towns to try to find a good test case. King is beaten up within moments of trying to check in to a hotel in Selma, and they realise that "this place is perfect". Town sheriff Jim Clark (Stan Houston) helps them to create national headlines by ordering his troops to attack and scare off the peacefully protesting activists who have gathered outside the town hall to register to vote.
Several tragic deaths at the hands of the Selma law enforcement and a few more front-page headlines draw more focus on King and on Selma, but King knows that he has to do something really big to persuade Johnson, who—as he reminds King—is a politician not an activist and has more than one issue to consider, to take immediate action on voting rights. "Let's not start a second battle when we haven't won the first," Johnson urges.
Although we get some detail on King as a person and, in particular, as a husband, Selma is also a one-issue movie. And given the importance of this story in American—and world—history, it is hard to argue with that. Certainly, I knew embarrassingly little about the protest marches and the town of Selma—or that marches were so key in the signing of the Voting Rights Act of 1965—until the film was released. The film-makers didn't have the rights to King's real words, but writer Paul Webb did admirably, slipping only occasionally into grandiosity.
Oyelowo is also really, really good as King, conveying a sense of calm leadership combined with highly compelling charisma. The whole ensemble cast is good, in fact; I particularly liked seeing Dylan Baker (AKA creepy wife-killer from The Good Wife) playing a super-creepy J. Edgar Hoover. Overall, Selma is a powerful and uplifting story and although it is clearly never going to be as fun as Birdman or Grand Budapest Hotel, it is essential viewing nonetheless.
Selma is the last film of this year's Best Picture Oscar nominees that I've watched and it wasn't my favourite, but it is an important and well-told film with stand-out performances from David Oyelowo and Carmen Ejogo as Martin Luther King Jr and Coretta Scott King. The film opens in 1964. King is about to receive his Nobel Peace Prize while his wife frets over his outfit. He wonders, wryly, what the brothers back home would think of his fancy attire. Meanwhile, a few months earlier in a church in Birmingham, Alabama, four young girls are full of admiration for Coretta but—within moments—the building is violently blown to pieces.
The film takes place in the few months between the Nobel ceremony in late 1964 and the protest marches in spring 1965 between the titular Selma, Alabama, and the state capital Montgomery, some 50 miles east. King is campaigning hard with President Lyndon B. Johnson (Tom Wilkinson) over the lack of enforcement of the recent law permitting African Americans to vote in some states, especially Alabama where Governor George Wallace (Tim Roth) prefers the status quo.
King and some of his fellow activists in the Southern Christian Leadership Conference visit a few Alabama towns to try to find a good test case. King is beaten up within moments of trying to check in to a hotel in Selma, and they realise that "this place is perfect". Town sheriff Jim Clark (Stan Houston) helps them to create national headlines by ordering his troops to attack and scare off the peacefully protesting activists who have gathered outside the town hall to register to vote.
Several tragic deaths at the hands of the Selma law enforcement and a few more front-page headlines draw more focus on King and on Selma, but King knows that he has to do something really big to persuade Johnson, who—as he reminds King—is a politician not an activist and has more than one issue to consider, to take immediate action on voting rights. "Let's not start a second battle when we haven't won the first," Johnson urges.
Although we get some detail on King as a person and, in particular, as a husband, Selma is also a one-issue movie. And given the importance of this story in American—and world—history, it is hard to argue with that. Certainly, I knew embarrassingly little about the protest marches and the town of Selma—or that marches were so key in the signing of the Voting Rights Act of 1965—until the film was released. The film-makers didn't have the rights to King's real words, but writer Paul Webb did admirably, slipping only occasionally into grandiosity.
Oyelowo is also really, really good as King, conveying a sense of calm leadership combined with highly compelling charisma. The whole ensemble cast is good, in fact; I particularly liked seeing Dylan Baker (AKA creepy wife-killer from The Good Wife) playing a super-creepy J. Edgar Hoover. Overall, Selma is a powerful and uplifting story and although it is clearly never going to be as fun as Birdman or Grand Budapest Hotel, it is essential viewing nonetheless.
19 January 2015
Aim for the Sky Garden
Years ago in San Francisco, I took a free city tour that showed me some of the 'secret' rooftop gardens and other public spaces in some of the city's tallest buildings were a requirement of their planning permission. The Sky Garden at 20 Fenchurch Street (AKA the Walkie Talkie and the Jaguar melter) is a similar project, but on a much higher and much less secret scale. You can book a free ticket online and then ride the lift to the 35th floor where you can enjoy 360-degree views of London, including close-ups of its neighbours: the Shard, the Gherkin and the Cheese-Grater. Not everyone is a fan of London's new skyline, but I love its pleasing geometry.
The free tickets are all booked up until the end of March, but keep an eye on the Sky Garden's website and Twitter feed to find out when the next batch is released. My brother was super-organised and booked a group of us tickets for yesterday afternoon. We were allocated the 4.45 time-slot — sadly just after sunset — and then, having gone through an airport-style security scan (pro-tip: don't bring your selfie stick), the lift whisked us up to the top.
The Sky Garden looks like a particularly leafy, particularly high-altitude airport terminal, but that isn't really a bad thing. As soon as we stepped out of the lift, we were wowed by the amazing view of the Shard and South London. The sun had just set, but London was still bathed in a gorgeous pinky-orange light as we made our first circuit of the garden. There are steps along the west and east sides of the Sky Garden, which elevates the south-facing windows (with views of the Gherkin and the City) a few dozen feet above the northern end.
It must be said that there is a lot more emphasis on the sky than on the garden. There is a bar along the south-facing window, where cocktails ranged from £11–15. You can also book a table at a couple of restaurants, which give you slightly better views than you can get in the main gallery. The Sky Garden is quite dimly lit, but the spotlights on the garden and metal bars approximately at eye level make taking decent night-time photography quite challenging — by the time we made our second circuit, it was much darker and I found that my bright pink coat ended up getting reflected in a lot of my photos.
There is an open-air terrace but it wasn't open last night. Although it wasn't my best photo, one of my favourite spots was the Alaska Building in Bermondsey, which is close to where I live, although I couldn't quite pick out my house.
If you have a head for heights and would rather spend the Shard's admission price on two cocktails, I would definitely recommend trying to book tickets to the Sky Garden. There isn't a lot to do at the top, but the views are stunning, especially if you get lucky with a great sunset. Just remember to print out your tickets and try not to bring any liquids or anything else you wouldn't take through airport security!
The Sky Garden. 20 Fenchurch Street, London, EC3M 4BA (Tube: Aldgate). Website. Twitter.
The free tickets are all booked up until the end of March, but keep an eye on the Sky Garden's website and Twitter feed to find out when the next batch is released. My brother was super-organised and booked a group of us tickets for yesterday afternoon. We were allocated the 4.45 time-slot — sadly just after sunset — and then, having gone through an airport-style security scan (pro-tip: don't bring your selfie stick), the lift whisked us up to the top.
The Sky Garden looks like a particularly leafy, particularly high-altitude airport terminal, but that isn't really a bad thing. As soon as we stepped out of the lift, we were wowed by the amazing view of the Shard and South London. The sun had just set, but London was still bathed in a gorgeous pinky-orange light as we made our first circuit of the garden. There are steps along the west and east sides of the Sky Garden, which elevates the south-facing windows (with views of the Gherkin and the City) a few dozen feet above the northern end.
It must be said that there is a lot more emphasis on the sky than on the garden. There is a bar along the south-facing window, where cocktails ranged from £11–15. You can also book a table at a couple of restaurants, which give you slightly better views than you can get in the main gallery. The Sky Garden is quite dimly lit, but the spotlights on the garden and metal bars approximately at eye level make taking decent night-time photography quite challenging — by the time we made our second circuit, it was much darker and I found that my bright pink coat ended up getting reflected in a lot of my photos.
There is an open-air terrace but it wasn't open last night. Although it wasn't my best photo, one of my favourite spots was the Alaska Building in Bermondsey, which is close to where I live, although I couldn't quite pick out my house.
If you have a head for heights and would rather spend the Shard's admission price on two cocktails, I would definitely recommend trying to book tickets to the Sky Garden. There isn't a lot to do at the top, but the views are stunning, especially if you get lucky with a great sunset. Just remember to print out your tickets and try not to bring any liquids or anything else you wouldn't take through airport security!
The Sky Garden. 20 Fenchurch Street, London, EC3M 4BA (Tube: Aldgate). Website. Twitter.
18 January 2015
"I'm Better When It's Breathing"
When I saw the trailer for American Sniper, I didn't think I needed to see another film about a brilliant but troubled US soldier in the Iraq War — hey, I sat through all 2h10 of The Hurt Locker. But I do have a soft spot for Clint Eastwood's films, even though I haven't loved any of them since Gran Torino, and so I found myself spending yesterday afternoon watching another two-hour-ten-minuter and it turned out that my initial instincts were right. American Sniper is perfectly fine and features a good performance from Bradley Cooper as the eponymous sniper, but it just didn't feel very unique.
The film opens with a scene from the trailer: a US sniper on an Iraqi rooftop has to decide whether to shoot and kill a young boy carrying a grenade. He deliberates for a while and then, just as his finger tightens on the trigger, we flash back to the sniper's own youth, where his father teaches him how to shoot a deer and warns him that of the three types of people — sheep, wolves and sheepdogs — the latter is the only acceptable category.
Then we jump forward 20 years and Chris Kyle (Bradley Cooper) is working as a ranch hand and rodeo star in his native Texas with his brother Jeff (Keir O'Donnell). When Chris sees the news about the 1998 US embassy bombings on TV, he decides that it is time to do his bit for his country and enlists as a Navy Seal. During training, he keeps messing up during target practice; "I'm better when it's breathing," he explains. Later, he meets Taya (Sienna Miller) and woos her with such lines as, "I'm not a redneck, I'm from Texas". They scarcely have time to get hitched before the Iraq War breaks out and Chris heads off to fight. They do have time to get pregnant, however, and Taya must go through her pregnancy physically alone and also, for the most part, emotionally alone.
Chris achieves great success on his tours, and soon becomes known as The Legend — the deadliest sniper in US history. He will do anything he can to protect the marines by guarding them from the rooftops and feels immense guilt over the ones he can't save. He feels less guilty about the Iraqis he has killed (save a couple of young boys who made the mistake of picking up weapons) because he truly believes his purpose in life is to save as many American soldiers as he can by any means possible.
With his fellow troops, Chris is funny, inspiring and brave; they all love and admire him. Back on home soil, though, he finds it hard to switch off. His eyes and ears are constantly primed to expect danger and treachery, and he finds it impossible to talk to Taya about his experiences. "Even when you're here, you're not here," she protests, asking Chris when it will be their time. "They can't wait and we can," he replies to her frustration.
There is an awful lot of sniping in the film's middle hour and this second act in particular felt baggy and in need of a tighter edit. That isn't to say that it was boring — Eastwood maintains a constant level of tension throughout — but the same story could have been told more efficiently, and for me, the final 20-ish minutes were the strongest part of the film, as the nature of PTSD and the other consequences of war and fighting for one's country are teased out more subtly. Miller is, as in Foxcatcher, somewhat underused but gives a fine performance as the loving wife who can no nothing but watch and wait as she lives with the aftermath of her husband's decisions. Cooper, meanwhile, does a great job playing a complex and evolving character.
Kyle was, in fact, a real American sniper and the film is based on his memoir of the same name. It is a deeply personal story, but it sometimes feels as though Eastwood is counting on its true-life pedigree to yield more gravitas than it might otherwise have achieved. American Sniper is a good movie, but not a truly great one, and certainly not Eastwood's best work.
The film opens with a scene from the trailer: a US sniper on an Iraqi rooftop has to decide whether to shoot and kill a young boy carrying a grenade. He deliberates for a while and then, just as his finger tightens on the trigger, we flash back to the sniper's own youth, where his father teaches him how to shoot a deer and warns him that of the three types of people — sheep, wolves and sheepdogs — the latter is the only acceptable category.
Then we jump forward 20 years and Chris Kyle (Bradley Cooper) is working as a ranch hand and rodeo star in his native Texas with his brother Jeff (Keir O'Donnell). When Chris sees the news about the 1998 US embassy bombings on TV, he decides that it is time to do his bit for his country and enlists as a Navy Seal. During training, he keeps messing up during target practice; "I'm better when it's breathing," he explains. Later, he meets Taya (Sienna Miller) and woos her with such lines as, "I'm not a redneck, I'm from Texas". They scarcely have time to get hitched before the Iraq War breaks out and Chris heads off to fight. They do have time to get pregnant, however, and Taya must go through her pregnancy physically alone and also, for the most part, emotionally alone.
Chris achieves great success on his tours, and soon becomes known as The Legend — the deadliest sniper in US history. He will do anything he can to protect the marines by guarding them from the rooftops and feels immense guilt over the ones he can't save. He feels less guilty about the Iraqis he has killed (save a couple of young boys who made the mistake of picking up weapons) because he truly believes his purpose in life is to save as many American soldiers as he can by any means possible.
With his fellow troops, Chris is funny, inspiring and brave; they all love and admire him. Back on home soil, though, he finds it hard to switch off. His eyes and ears are constantly primed to expect danger and treachery, and he finds it impossible to talk to Taya about his experiences. "Even when you're here, you're not here," she protests, asking Chris when it will be their time. "They can't wait and we can," he replies to her frustration.
There is an awful lot of sniping in the film's middle hour and this second act in particular felt baggy and in need of a tighter edit. That isn't to say that it was boring — Eastwood maintains a constant level of tension throughout — but the same story could have been told more efficiently, and for me, the final 20-ish minutes were the strongest part of the film, as the nature of PTSD and the other consequences of war and fighting for one's country are teased out more subtly. Miller is, as in Foxcatcher, somewhat underused but gives a fine performance as the loving wife who can no nothing but watch and wait as she lives with the aftermath of her husband's decisions. Cooper, meanwhile, does a great job playing a complex and evolving character.
Kyle was, in fact, a real American sniper and the film is based on his memoir of the same name. It is a deeply personal story, but it sometimes feels as though Eastwood is counting on its true-life pedigree to yield more gravitas than it might otherwise have achieved. American Sniper is a good movie, but not a truly great one, and certainly not Eastwood's best work.
14 January 2015
"There Are No Two Words More Harmful in the English Language Than 'Good Job'"
Damien Chazelle's new film Whiplash is a tense, intense thriller about talent and what it means — and what it costs — to succeed. Andrew (Miles Teller) is an ambitious young drummer at Schaffer, a top Juillard-esque music conservatory. He is recruited by the brilliant but terrifying conductor Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons) to join Schaffer's ultra-competitive studio band.
UK readers may find it helpful here to imagine an episode of The Apprentice with talented young musicians as the candidates and Fletcher as the boss from hell — he makes Alan Sugar look like a pussycat. He yells at his students, throws things at them, hits them, insults them and — worst of all — swaps them out for their alternates at the drop of a hat or, at least, the missing of a beat. "The key is to relax," he tells Andrew before, moments later, screaming at him, demanding to know whether Andrew is a rusher or a dragger. After some initial praise from Fletcher, Andrew thinks he is immune from this torture, but within minutes, he is thrown off his pedestal and forced to nurse his hurt pride.
Andrew's father (Paul Reiser) tells Andrew to quit — that nothing is worth this level of abuse — but Andrew can never abandon his one true passion. He is that Apprentice candidate who will always give 110% — every drop of blood and sweat, and every tear — in order to succeed. At first, Andrew seems like a nice, quiet guy who lacks confidence with girls and has a major inferiority complex around his talented cousins. But we soon realise that Andrew has had to sacrifice likability in order to realise his dream. He lacks people skills and he is arrogant and single-minded to the point of ending a blossoming relationship because he knows the girl, Nicole (Melissa Benoist), will try to interfere with his devotion to music. In this way, he resembles Jesse Eisenberg's Mark Zuckerberg; his break-up with Nicole, in particular, is very reminiscent of The Social Network's opening scene.
Does Andrew really have what it takes to be the best and if he does, will Fletcher allow him to achieve the recognition and success Andrew feels he deserves? Whiplash, which is named for one of the core pieces played by the studio band, is a physically draining and exhausting film — especially the epic drum solo in the film's final act. You can't help but be swept up by the movie's taut, heightened energy: you find your feet tapping along with the rhythm and your heart racing along in time with the breakneck beat of the drums.
Teller, who has played the drums since the age of 15, is great in a difficult role as the often unlikable protagonist, but it is Simmons who steals the show, just like his character in the film. Whiplash isn't the film to see if you want a nice, relaxing evening at the cinema, but if you want a raw, uncompromising story about talent, ambition and ego, it's definitely the one to watch.
UK readers may find it helpful here to imagine an episode of The Apprentice with talented young musicians as the candidates and Fletcher as the boss from hell — he makes Alan Sugar look like a pussycat. He yells at his students, throws things at them, hits them, insults them and — worst of all — swaps them out for their alternates at the drop of a hat or, at least, the missing of a beat. "The key is to relax," he tells Andrew before, moments later, screaming at him, demanding to know whether Andrew is a rusher or a dragger. After some initial praise from Fletcher, Andrew thinks he is immune from this torture, but within minutes, he is thrown off his pedestal and forced to nurse his hurt pride.
Andrew's father (Paul Reiser) tells Andrew to quit — that nothing is worth this level of abuse — but Andrew can never abandon his one true passion. He is that Apprentice candidate who will always give 110% — every drop of blood and sweat, and every tear — in order to succeed. At first, Andrew seems like a nice, quiet guy who lacks confidence with girls and has a major inferiority complex around his talented cousins. But we soon realise that Andrew has had to sacrifice likability in order to realise his dream. He lacks people skills and he is arrogant and single-minded to the point of ending a blossoming relationship because he knows the girl, Nicole (Melissa Benoist), will try to interfere with his devotion to music. In this way, he resembles Jesse Eisenberg's Mark Zuckerberg; his break-up with Nicole, in particular, is very reminiscent of The Social Network's opening scene.
Does Andrew really have what it takes to be the best and if he does, will Fletcher allow him to achieve the recognition and success Andrew feels he deserves? Whiplash, which is named for one of the core pieces played by the studio band, is a physically draining and exhausting film — especially the epic drum solo in the film's final act. You can't help but be swept up by the movie's taut, heightened energy: you find your feet tapping along with the rhythm and your heart racing along in time with the breakneck beat of the drums.
Teller, who has played the drums since the age of 15, is great in a difficult role as the often unlikable protagonist, but it is Simmons who steals the show, just like his character in the film. Whiplash isn't the film to see if you want a nice, relaxing evening at the cinema, but if you want a raw, uncompromising story about talent, ambition and ego, it's definitely the one to watch.
12 January 2015
A Wrestler Development
I had hoped to catch Bennett Miller's new movie Foxcatcher at the London Film Festival last year, but as that didn't work out, I had to wait until Friday night to see it. With numerous award nominations and a win at Cannes, I had high hopes for the film, which tells the based-on-a-true-story of two brothers who won Olympic gold medals for wrestling and who are recruited by a multimillionaire philanthropist to join his wrestling training academy. However, the film left me lacking, despite good performances by some of the leads.
As the film opens, it is three years after Mark Schultz (Channing Tatum) won his gold medal at the 1984 Olympics and he looks like a has-been. He lives in a run-down apartment, has few friends and lives in the shadow of his older brother Dave (Mark Ruffalo), who also won gold in Los Angeles. We see the two brothers helping each other warm up and then sparring — a beautifully choreographed scene — and it is obvious they care a great deal about each other. But life is treating Dave, who has a wife (Sienna Miller) and two young children and who enjoys his coaching work, more kindly.
Then out of the blue, Mark gets a call from a "John E. duPont — of the duPont family" (Steve Carell) who invites him to come to live on duPont's extensive Pennsylvania estate where he will pay him to continue his wrestling training on duPont's Foxcatcher team as they prepare for the World Championships and then the Seoul Olympics.
The offer is too good to refuse, although Mark cannot persuade Dave to join him at Foxcatcher Farm. It becomes immediately clear that duPont and his elderly mother (Vanessa Redgrave) are rather unusual. The main house resembles a cross between the White House and something out of Flowers in the Attic, but with the support of duPont and the team, Mark takes the gold medal at the World Championships, and begins to develop a sort of friendship with his coach and mentor — at times, the relationship has echoes of Behind the Candelabra, although these are sporadic and inconsistent.
duPont clearly has mommy issues: he is so desperate to impress his mother, who won't even let him put a cup he wins in the best cabinet in the trophy room because she considers wrestling to be "a low sport". Mark too begins to suffer in the company of duPont and loses self-esteem and focus. duPont is, however, eventually able to convince Dave and his family to move to the estate so that Dave can become the team's assistant coach and support his brother as Mark prepares for the Olympic trials.
Foxcatcher is based on Mark Schultz's memoir of this period in his life. I tried to avoid spoilers and had no idea what happened; indeed, if you don't already know the outcome, you shouldn't try to Google the story ahead of time. That being said, I didn't find the ending particularly surprising, not least because the film progresses so slowly that I knew that something had to be up. I read that the original script was four hours long and although it now clocks in at 2h15, they could easily have told the same story more concisely by cutting another 30 minutes from the run time. There are elements of The World According to Garp and of Warrior, although Foxcatcher isn't as compelling as either and isn't really about wrestling — well, not just wrestling — anyway.
Carell and Ruffalo are both very good — they and an under-used Sienna Miller are nearly unrecognisable in this film — and Tatum does a decent job as the troubled jock, but I still left the cinema feeling very meh about the film. I was curious to know what would happen, because it was obvious that something major would happen, but it just didn't engage me as much as I had hoped, especially given the fascinating story on which it is based and given how much I enjoyed Bennett Miller's previous film Moneyball.
As the film opens, it is three years after Mark Schultz (Channing Tatum) won his gold medal at the 1984 Olympics and he looks like a has-been. He lives in a run-down apartment, has few friends and lives in the shadow of his older brother Dave (Mark Ruffalo), who also won gold in Los Angeles. We see the two brothers helping each other warm up and then sparring — a beautifully choreographed scene — and it is obvious they care a great deal about each other. But life is treating Dave, who has a wife (Sienna Miller) and two young children and who enjoys his coaching work, more kindly.
Then out of the blue, Mark gets a call from a "John E. duPont — of the duPont family" (Steve Carell) who invites him to come to live on duPont's extensive Pennsylvania estate where he will pay him to continue his wrestling training on duPont's Foxcatcher team as they prepare for the World Championships and then the Seoul Olympics.
The offer is too good to refuse, although Mark cannot persuade Dave to join him at Foxcatcher Farm. It becomes immediately clear that duPont and his elderly mother (Vanessa Redgrave) are rather unusual. The main house resembles a cross between the White House and something out of Flowers in the Attic, but with the support of duPont and the team, Mark takes the gold medal at the World Championships, and begins to develop a sort of friendship with his coach and mentor — at times, the relationship has echoes of Behind the Candelabra, although these are sporadic and inconsistent.
duPont clearly has mommy issues: he is so desperate to impress his mother, who won't even let him put a cup he wins in the best cabinet in the trophy room because she considers wrestling to be "a low sport". Mark too begins to suffer in the company of duPont and loses self-esteem and focus. duPont is, however, eventually able to convince Dave and his family to move to the estate so that Dave can become the team's assistant coach and support his brother as Mark prepares for the Olympic trials.
Foxcatcher is based on Mark Schultz's memoir of this period in his life. I tried to avoid spoilers and had no idea what happened; indeed, if you don't already know the outcome, you shouldn't try to Google the story ahead of time. That being said, I didn't find the ending particularly surprising, not least because the film progresses so slowly that I knew that something had to be up. I read that the original script was four hours long and although it now clocks in at 2h15, they could easily have told the same story more concisely by cutting another 30 minutes from the run time. There are elements of The World According to Garp and of Warrior, although Foxcatcher isn't as compelling as either and isn't really about wrestling — well, not just wrestling — anyway.
Carell and Ruffalo are both very good — they and an under-used Sienna Miller are nearly unrecognisable in this film — and Tatum does a decent job as the troubled jock, but I still left the cinema feeling very meh about the film. I was curious to know what would happen, because it was obvious that something major would happen, but it just didn't engage me as much as I had hoped, especially given the fascinating story on which it is based and given how much I enjoyed Bennett Miller's previous film Moneyball.
09 January 2015
A Peep at Old Tom & English
Last night, we had a family dinner at an old favourite, Mele e Pere. We needed a cool spot in Soho for a quick aperitif beforehand, though, so I suggested that we meet at Old Tom & English, a gorgeous new bar and restaurant sequestered beneath an otherwise unexciting block in Wardour Street.
The restaurant side of OT&E, which serves a broad selection of British small plates, is — unusually for Soho — reservations only, but you can chance your luck and try for a seat at the very chic bar. First, though, you have to ring the large brass doorbell on the door marked 187b. Early on a Thursday evening, the bar area was relatively quiet, so I was handed a shiny coat-check card — a gold playing card — and ushered downstairs.
The next challenge was the cocktail menu. As you might guess from the name, OT&E has a fair few gin-based cocktails. For my opening gambit, I ordered the Wardour (when in Wardour Street...), which involved Brockmans gin with lime, sugar syrup, basil and black pepper. Essentially, a very tasty gin variation on the mojito theme. Strong, fruity and bursting with flavour, I was very impressed. It even came with a purple flower garnish nestling in the basil.
Although I was tempted by the Elderflower Collins and by the Barrel-Aged Gin Old Fashioned, my cheeky second cocktail ended up being the OT&E 75, a twist on the classic French 75, which included lavender-infused gin, as well as lemon, sugar and Champagne. I'm a sucker for lavender and this drink was tart, fruity and expertly mixed, I was very happy.
While we enjoyed our cocktails, we nibbled on the bar snacks: moreish almonds, and mini sausages, which were rather spicier than I was expecting. Perusing the menu, I almost wished we were staying for dinner, although Mele e Pere never disappoints. Instead, we admired the gorgeous rose gold barware and the bar's effortlessly chic mid-century design, and then headed reluctantly back up to ground level. Old Tom & English feels almost like a time warp and it's certainly a world away from the mêlée above, even if the bartenders do employ some thoroughly modern mixology skills.
Old Tom & English. 187b Wardour Street, London, W1F 8ZB (Tube: Oxford Circus or Tottenham Court Road). Website. Twitter.
The restaurant side of OT&E, which serves a broad selection of British small plates, is — unusually for Soho — reservations only, but you can chance your luck and try for a seat at the very chic bar. First, though, you have to ring the large brass doorbell on the door marked 187b. Early on a Thursday evening, the bar area was relatively quiet, so I was handed a shiny coat-check card — a gold playing card — and ushered downstairs.
The next challenge was the cocktail menu. As you might guess from the name, OT&E has a fair few gin-based cocktails. For my opening gambit, I ordered the Wardour (when in Wardour Street...), which involved Brockmans gin with lime, sugar syrup, basil and black pepper. Essentially, a very tasty gin variation on the mojito theme. Strong, fruity and bursting with flavour, I was very impressed. It even came with a purple flower garnish nestling in the basil.
Although I was tempted by the Elderflower Collins and by the Barrel-Aged Gin Old Fashioned, my cheeky second cocktail ended up being the OT&E 75, a twist on the classic French 75, which included lavender-infused gin, as well as lemon, sugar and Champagne. I'm a sucker for lavender and this drink was tart, fruity and expertly mixed, I was very happy.
While we enjoyed our cocktails, we nibbled on the bar snacks: moreish almonds, and mini sausages, which were rather spicier than I was expecting. Perusing the menu, I almost wished we were staying for dinner, although Mele e Pere never disappoints. Instead, we admired the gorgeous rose gold barware and the bar's effortlessly chic mid-century design, and then headed reluctantly back up to ground level. Old Tom & English feels almost like a time warp and it's certainly a world away from the mêlée above, even if the bartenders do employ some thoroughly modern mixology skills.
Old Tom & English. 187b Wardour Street, London, W1F 8ZB (Tube: Oxford Circus or Tottenham Court Road). Website. Twitter.
07 January 2015
"At Least You Won't Be Buried Alone in Buxton"
The opening act of James Kent's Testament of Youth plays out like an advert for Visit Yorkshire: a young woman frolics in a cool, clear lake and, laughing, wanders o'er hill and dale with her beloved brother and his two friends. The toughest challenge in Vera (Alicia Vikander)'s life is persuading her father (Dominic West) to let her sit the Oxford entrance exam so that she can join her brother Edward (Taron Egerton) and sweetheart Roland (Kit Harington) and eventually become a writer.
She wins a place at Somerville College, but before we can go full Brideshead, the Great War has erupted and Edward, Roland and several other friends have enlisted. Vera begs Roland not to go but he insists. "How many generations get a chance to be involved in something like this?" he asks, and soon he has gone to fight. Even the honeyed stone walls of Oxford offer little solace to Vera and she leaves behind her Ivory Tower to become a nurse — first on home turf and then in France where she can be closer to the action.
Kent's anthem for doomed youth is based on Vera Brittain's memoir of the same name and it paints a bleak, uncompromising portrait of war and waste, love and loss. There is mud and blood, with little room for romance or romanticisation. The film has a lot in common with Poliakoff's Glorious 39, but the similarities with Joe Wright's Atonement are more immediate (it almost feels like a prequel), from the long sweeping shots of battlefields to Max Richter's haunting score. Atonement is a cleverer, more complex film but Testament of Youth has at its core a strong and moving central performance from Vikander and a powerful story.
Jon Snow (AKA Harington) has had a bit of a haircut and scrubbed up rather nicely, but he is soon dispatched to the wall (well, the front line) and his main role is to look dolefully at Vera with those puppy-dog eyes. It seemed to me that there was more of a connection and stronger chemistry between Vera and Edward than Vera and Roland. West, meanwhile, is also wasted in his role as the sad, powerless patriarch but he makes the best of the material is given. Emily Watson, as Vera and Edward's mother, doesn't have a lot to do either, although there is a nice, if brief, turn from the ever sparky Hayley Atwell, as a take-charge, stiff-upper-lip nurse Vera meets in France.
Testament of Youth is a bleak film to start off a new year, especially with the World War I centenary and the dramatic display of poppies at the Tower of the London barely having concluded. It is, however, a well-made film that tells an important story about a unique and fascinating historical character — a story that will stick in my mind for some time, as well as prompting me to re-watch the excellent Atonement.
She wins a place at Somerville College, but before we can go full Brideshead, the Great War has erupted and Edward, Roland and several other friends have enlisted. Vera begs Roland not to go but he insists. "How many generations get a chance to be involved in something like this?" he asks, and soon he has gone to fight. Even the honeyed stone walls of Oxford offer little solace to Vera and she leaves behind her Ivory Tower to become a nurse — first on home turf and then in France where she can be closer to the action.
Kent's anthem for doomed youth is based on Vera Brittain's memoir of the same name and it paints a bleak, uncompromising portrait of war and waste, love and loss. There is mud and blood, with little room for romance or romanticisation. The film has a lot in common with Poliakoff's Glorious 39, but the similarities with Joe Wright's Atonement are more immediate (it almost feels like a prequel), from the long sweeping shots of battlefields to Max Richter's haunting score. Atonement is a cleverer, more complex film but Testament of Youth has at its core a strong and moving central performance from Vikander and a powerful story.
Jon Snow (AKA Harington) has had a bit of a haircut and scrubbed up rather nicely, but he is soon dispatched to the wall (well, the front line) and his main role is to look dolefully at Vera with those puppy-dog eyes. It seemed to me that there was more of a connection and stronger chemistry between Vera and Edward than Vera and Roland. West, meanwhile, is also wasted in his role as the sad, powerless patriarch but he makes the best of the material is given. Emily Watson, as Vera and Edward's mother, doesn't have a lot to do either, although there is a nice, if brief, turn from the ever sparky Hayley Atwell, as a take-charge, stiff-upper-lip nurse Vera meets in France.
Testament of Youth is a bleak film to start off a new year, especially with the World War I centenary and the dramatic display of poppies at the Tower of the London barely having concluded. It is, however, a well-made film that tells an important story about a unique and fascinating historical character — a story that will stick in my mind for some time, as well as prompting me to re-watch the excellent Atonement.
05 January 2015
December Favourites
Towards the end of last year, I began to realise that are lots of things I like that I would like to recommend, but which don't fit into a post on this blog. As such, I'm going to start compiling monthly favourites posts, where I will highlight a handful of items and experiences I have enjoyed. Here are my picks for December 2014:
I've been re-listening to The National's album Trouble Will Find Me pretty much constantly since I saw the band at The O2 in November, and Sea of Love has emerged as my favourite song on the album. It isn't the title track but the lyrics do contain the album title, and I am also particularly enamoured with this enigmatic lyric with its pleading final tag question: Hey, Jo, sorry I hurt you, but they say love is a virtue, don't they? Check out the whole album: it's a corker.
The Royal Tenenbaums
When I first watched Wes Anderson's film The Royal Tenenbaums at university, over a decade ago, I really disliked it. I thought it was excessively quirky, pretentious and not very fun. Since then, I've done a U-turn on Wes Anderson — I rather liked Moonrise Kingdom and loved The Grand Budapest Hotel — so I decided to give the Tenenbaums another go. Yes, it is wacky, but it is also brilliant funny and a little sad, and with that meticulous attention to detail Anderson is famous for.
Jo Malone Wood Sage & Sea Salt Cologne
I'm something of a monogamist when it comes to fragrance and I've been loyal to my favourite, Hermès's Un Jardin en Mediterrannée, for many years. However, I love the unique fresh, woody scent of Jo Malone's new Wood Sage & Sea Salt cologne (£40), so I waited patiently until I could pick it up at Duty Free on the way to France. It's lighter and a little more fun than the Hermès fragrance, so it's nice to have a different perfume option in my armoury.
NewTree Lavender Chocolate
Years ago, Tesco sold an unusual lavender-infused premium chocolate bar that I used to love, but then one day it disappeared. However, I found a similar product in Casino, the French grocery store chain, while on holiday and stocked up. It's a little tricky to track down in the UK, but you can order online from NewTree if you are in the US or Europe (€3.50), or raid your local Casino in France.
Pink Pepper Gin
My parents bought me a bottle of Pink Pepper Gin (£37.45) for my birthday after I had sampled it at the London Gin Club. It has a really unique warm, spicy taste and doesn't need a citrus garnish, although it is even better with some pink peppercorns sprinkled on top.
Sea of Love by The National
I've been re-listening to The National's album Trouble Will Find Me pretty much constantly since I saw the band at The O2 in November, and Sea of Love has emerged as my favourite song on the album. It isn't the title track but the lyrics do contain the album title, and I am also particularly enamoured with this enigmatic lyric with its pleading final tag question: Hey, Jo, sorry I hurt you, but they say love is a virtue, don't they? Check out the whole album: it's a corker.
The Royal Tenenbaums
When I first watched Wes Anderson's film The Royal Tenenbaums at university, over a decade ago, I really disliked it. I thought it was excessively quirky, pretentious and not very fun. Since then, I've done a U-turn on Wes Anderson — I rather liked Moonrise Kingdom and loved The Grand Budapest Hotel — so I decided to give the Tenenbaums another go. Yes, it is wacky, but it is also brilliant funny and a little sad, and with that meticulous attention to detail Anderson is famous for.
02 January 2015
"What's the Equation? That's the Question"
In my capacity as a press officer for a scientific journal, I was excited last month to receive a phone call from the distribution company working on The Theory of Everything — James Marsh's new movie about Stephen Hawking and Hawking's first wife, Jane Wilde. They were inviting someone from our journal to the film's London premiere last month, but somewhat unsurprisingly, they were after one of our journalists and I didn't get to go.
I finally got to see the film on New Year's Day and I really enjoyed it. Sure, it could have been more tightly edited and at times it felt a little like a film about a love triangle that just happened to contain one of the most famous physicists of all time. It's worth going to see for Eddie Redmayne's strong central performance as Hawking from his days as a young PhD student to more recent times. The physical transformation is striking and Redmayne certainly deserves the award nominations that are starting to roll in.
The film opens in 1963, when Hawking is a brilliant PhD student trying to decide what to specialise in. At a party, he meets linguist Jane Wilde (Felicity Jones), and the two form an instant connection. They have barely had time to fall in love before Hawking is diagnosed with motor neuron disease and handed down a two-year life expectancy. Nonetheless, he and Jane marry and he successfully defends his PhD on the creation of the Universe and the history of time. The film can't avoid Hawking's research, of course, but the focus is very much on his relationship with Jane — as you would expect given that it is based on her memoir — and the toll the years of caring for him took on her.
For me, the film brought back more nostalgia of my own time as a student at Cambridge. Most of the film was shot at my old college, St John's — Hawking wasn't a student or fellow there, but it is one of the largest and most beautiful colleges, especially come May Ball season. My team at work also helped the production company to produce fictionalised versions of the front cover of our journal from the 1970s, so I was very proud to see them all lined up in a bookshop window during the film.
The Theory of Everything is a sweet and moving film, but never gets too bogged down in its own sentimentality. This is mainly down to the great performances from Redmayne and Jones, who are both very well cast. Time and its relative speed are also used in interesting ways in the film. The jump from glorious Cambridge scenes of Hawking and Jane dancing at a May Ball to the wheelchair-bound man who needs assistance with eating and then sleeping is all too sudden. But then time slows down to the extent that it's hard to tell how much time has elapsed by the end of the film (more than 30 years, for sure). The film has its funny moments too, and this reflects Hawking's famed wit and sense of humour: we see him chasing his nurse around the living room in his wheelchair with a cardboard box on his head, with his speech synthesiser saying, "exterminate! Exterminate!"
Some may argue that there is too much emphasis on the (romantic) chemistry and not enough on the (v. hard) physics, but I think director James Marsh, whose works include the excellent Project Nim and Shadow Dancer, has told an engaging and very human story about a brilliant man and the woman who loved him.
I finally got to see the film on New Year's Day and I really enjoyed it. Sure, it could have been more tightly edited and at times it felt a little like a film about a love triangle that just happened to contain one of the most famous physicists of all time. It's worth going to see for Eddie Redmayne's strong central performance as Hawking from his days as a young PhD student to more recent times. The physical transformation is striking and Redmayne certainly deserves the award nominations that are starting to roll in.
The film opens in 1963, when Hawking is a brilliant PhD student trying to decide what to specialise in. At a party, he meets linguist Jane Wilde (Felicity Jones), and the two form an instant connection. They have barely had time to fall in love before Hawking is diagnosed with motor neuron disease and handed down a two-year life expectancy. Nonetheless, he and Jane marry and he successfully defends his PhD on the creation of the Universe and the history of time. The film can't avoid Hawking's research, of course, but the focus is very much on his relationship with Jane — as you would expect given that it is based on her memoir — and the toll the years of caring for him took on her.
For me, the film brought back more nostalgia of my own time as a student at Cambridge. Most of the film was shot at my old college, St John's — Hawking wasn't a student or fellow there, but it is one of the largest and most beautiful colleges, especially come May Ball season. My team at work also helped the production company to produce fictionalised versions of the front cover of our journal from the 1970s, so I was very proud to see them all lined up in a bookshop window during the film.
The Theory of Everything is a sweet and moving film, but never gets too bogged down in its own sentimentality. This is mainly down to the great performances from Redmayne and Jones, who are both very well cast. Time and its relative speed are also used in interesting ways in the film. The jump from glorious Cambridge scenes of Hawking and Jane dancing at a May Ball to the wheelchair-bound man who needs assistance with eating and then sleeping is all too sudden. But then time slows down to the extent that it's hard to tell how much time has elapsed by the end of the film (more than 30 years, for sure). The film has its funny moments too, and this reflects Hawking's famed wit and sense of humour: we see him chasing his nurse around the living room in his wheelchair with a cardboard box on his head, with his speech synthesiser saying, "exterminate! Exterminate!"
Some may argue that there is too much emphasis on the (romantic) chemistry and not enough on the (v. hard) physics, but I think director James Marsh, whose works include the excellent Project Nim and Shadow Dancer, has told an engaging and very human story about a brilliant man and the woman who loved him.