Category Archives: Cinema

Review – Gravity (3D), Errol Flynn Filmhouse, Northampton, 3rd December 2013

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Cancel that application to join NASA – I’ve changed my mind about wanting to be a spaceman. If you’ve ever wondered what it would be like to be floating around a Space Station somewhere in the vasty void out there, this has got to be as good an insight as you would get from the safety of Planet Earth. Jolly badinage abounds out there between the Space Operatives as they go about day-to-day maintenance in the great unknown, but when debris from a missile strike on a defunct satellite by those pesky Ruskies starts heading their way, things get seriously problematic. That’s when you discover the “gravity” of the situation (geddit?) and Dr Ryan Stone, played with great conviction by Sandra Bullock, ends up having the most unlucky day at work imaginable.

There’s no doubt that this is an absolutely extraordinary film. The sense of outer space is vivid, scary, and beautiful, and I haven’t seen such exciting 3D effects since enjoying the John Barrowman Birmingham panto a few years ago. The music and sound effects are also really stirring and exciting – a build-up of rowdy noise will accompany a tense, suspenseful scene, and then will instantly change to silence as our heroes (briefly) escape one calamitous situation before awaiting the next. There’s a terrific juxtaposition between the hugeness of space and the tininess of the spacecraft and the fragility of the human body. I have to say, I had my heart in my mouth for at least half the film.

Fortunately I managed to overcome the sentimentality of much of the dialogue as I really wanted to enjoy this film; however its schmaltziness was over-the-top for Mrs Chrisparkle, who found it just too drippy. I guess realistically if you were in their shoes, hanging on a thread in the great beyond, you probably would talk about all those personal issues and have a photo of your family attached to your spacesuit; however, I could sense Mrs C going “oh purrlease” and “oh forchrissake” everytime another clichéd syrupy sentence hit the cosmic vacuum. There is also the pleasure – if that is the right word – of witnessing George Clooney running the gamut of wisecrack from A to Z even when he is at the end of his tether (literally). Is his character’s vain light-heartedness believable under such circumstances? That’s hard to answer.

The opening credits are as minimalist as you could ever expect to see, directing the audience’s attention straight to the opening scenario and the uneasily prosaic nature of the standard maintenance work performed against such an unprosaic background. This is basically a two-hander, and it’s not often you see one of those as a film – in fact, I can’t think of another. There are a few other characters who you just hear rather than see, but it’s mainly just Miss Bullock and Mr Clooney versus the universe. As Miss Bullock hops from space station to space station, I was impressed with her ability to operate the machinery when all the instructions are in Cyrillic, but surprised that she wasn’t able to crack the Chinese alphabet. You would have thought that would have been part of the training, just in case. Suffice to say she makes it back, even if not quite on dry land, and boy will she deserve that evening gin-and-tonic.

Visually stunning, an assault on the senses, plenty of suspense and a celebration of indomitable spirit; let down a bit by the sticky sweet script, but pacily packed into a thrilling 90 minutes. I’d definitely recommend it, and go for a 3D screening as the effects work brilliantly.

Review – Le Week-End, Errol Flynn Filmhouse, Northampton, 28th October 2013

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Well it was all rather a strange evening really. When we arrived at the Errol Flynn Filmhouse (still the best ever place you could possibly wish to see a film) the foyer was packed with noisy boozers. We couldn’t believe it – normally there’s a small queue of people wishing to take advantage of the innovative food and drink provision before taking it into the cinema, but this was like a party. When I eventually got to the counter to order our Argentinian Malbecs (delish as always) I asked the chap serving if the place had suddenly got extremely popular. Apparently it was a birthday party group who had seen the earlier film and had decided they didn’t want to leave! Anyway we got our drinks and fought our way into the auditorium.

The announced time on the tickets is for when the film is due to start. 8.30pm. There’s always 15 minutes or so of adverts and trailers beforehand – you know the score. Anyway, 8.27, 8.28, 8.29 came round and the auditorium was in silence. No trailers, no nothing. We predicted a problem. Mrs Chrisparkle expected to finish her Malbec, reclining in her plush leather chair, and then go home. But no, at 8.32 a little voice popped in to say there were technical problems but it would be starting very shortly. And indeed, so it did – lots of adverts. By about 8.50 another usher emerged and said they would stop all the adverts now and go straight into the film.

No criticism of the cinema intended, but it was already turning into a Long Week-End. However, once the film had finished it felt like a very long Week-End indeed. Actually the film is relatively short but it felt like an eternity. Looking at the reviews, this is definitely a Marmite film; I read a five star review of it that absolutely loved all the aspects of it that we absolutely hated. It all goes to prove that reviews are simply personal reflections of the artistic experience, and we’re all different.

The problem with this film starts with the trailer. If ever a promotional item gave you the wrong idea about the content of the main product, this is the one. Is there an Advertising Standards Agency watchdog for film trailers? Ofmovie, perhaps? This would be an excellent topic for their scrutineers. You would think it was going to be a Rom Com for sixty-somethings; a couple going to Paris for the weekend to celebrate an anniversary and rekindle their flagging relationship. We’d seen the trailer a few weeks ago, where Lindsay Duncan and Jim Broadbent traipse from restaurant to restaurant saying “no, too touristy”, “no, not enough people”, “no, too many people” etc, etc, and that’s precisely what we do in a foreign city. We knew instinctively that we would identify with these people, and get a feelgood throb from seeing them grow back together.

But instincts can sometimes be wrong. For a Rom Com, there was precious little to laugh at, and when it ended, everyone left feeling as flat as a pancake. The cinema was full of middle-aged couples who obviously all expected to identify with the characters in the same way; and if you have the remotest amount of self-respect you couldn’t possibly. Actually, the film is about a couple who have been married for forty years and have become desperately cruel to each other, despite occasional highlights of mutual understanding. It’s not really a comedy because there’s not a lot funny in it; it’s hardly a tragedy (at least in the classical sense) because you have no sense of anyone being particularly heroic. I’m not really sure what it is. Not so much a Rom Com, more an Argu Tede.

On paper it looks like a winning combination. Lindsay Duncan and Jim Broadbent are always brilliant in everything they do. They’re in Paris; that glorious city of dreams. A couple in a flagging relationship take a weekend away to regroup. It’s got to be a winner, no? What they don’t take into account is the fact that, for the most part, it’s quite boring – there’s an excellent climactic dinner party scene, but it’s incredibly slow to get there; it’s self-indulgent, self-pitying, feels totally inconsequential and above all, it’s thoroughly amoral. The only thing that seems to unite this couple is a desire to go to expensive restaurants and do a runner. They stay at a very posh hotel and ruin the walls. They run up bills they cannot pay. Basically this film celebrates illegality and irresponsibility, and the kind of behaviour most middle-class middle-aged people would despise in younger people.

There were things I liked; I liked the structure of the film, in that it started with the beginning of the weekend, with them on the train to London, and ended with the end of the weekend, with them abnegating their responsibilities by dancing in a café when by rights they should be doing the washing up. There was no faffing around with unnecessary introduction. I liked Paris – it was certainly the most enjoyable thing on screen and makes a superb setting for any film. We thought Jim Broadbent gave a very good performance as the desperately sad Nick; however, Mrs C’s observation about Lindsay Duncan’s performance as Meg is that she has turned into a kind of female Bill Nighy, all throw-away lines, self-conscious posturing and “look at me” glances to camera. Jeff Goldblum was also very good as Nick’s old college friend, and I felt very sorry for him when Nick and Meg just walk out on his party without saying goodbye. But then, that’s just the kind of people they are.

What progress is made in their relationship over the course of the weekend? All I could detect was that on the first evening Nick has a phone conversation with their son who is obviously having domestic difficulties, and Nick would like him and his family to return home whilst Meg is dead against it; by the end of the weekend, Nick too is putting him off from returning home – not in a decent way, mind; he said no and then whilst the son was remonstrating, he just pretended that the phone line had cut out. Coward. Apart from that, I didn’t get a sense of an increased understanding between the two characters; but then, so what, I really didn’t care either.

When we did finally emerge into the open air, Mrs C was amazed that it was only twenty past ten; that 93 minutes was amongst the longest we’ve endured. Our energy and enthusiasm had been completely sapped by the film and its unpleasant characters. We did briefly wonder on the way home how they will get themselves out of their unresolved pickle at the end of the film, but then came to our senses as we asked, “who cares?”

Review – About Time, Errol Flynn Filmhouse, Northampton, 25th September 2013

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Writers love to mess about with the concept of time, don’t they? J B Priestley was never happier than when he was plotting a Dangerous Corner or having a mystical Inspector Call; he even wrote a play called “I Have Been Here Before”. Ayckbourn is fascinated by time and has set different plays all performing at the same time in different parts of the same house; or with alternative endings depending on the toss of a coin; or indeed playing around with Communicating Doors, entering and exiting into time itself. And then there’s Doctor Who of course; and a whole raft of science fiction.

Now it’s Richard Curtis’ turn to dabble with this concept, in his latest rom com, About Time. It’s an elegantly written, mischievous tale about a family where the males have a secret gift – they can go back in time. All they have to do is go into a cupboard, clench their fists and whoosh, they return to a moment they had previously indexed to amend, rectify, and generally tinker with the past. Young Tim is of course highly suspicious of his newly discovered gift, and does what any young man would do under such circumstances – goes back and attempts to enhance his love life.

But that’s not quite as easy as it sounds, as women have a mind of their own too. If the course of true love never did run smooth that’s even more the case when you have the ability to rewind and erase. Nevertheless, by a devious trick of time he snatches his newly found beloved away within seconds of her otherwise falling for a jerk at a party and they all live happily ever after.

That’s just a small part of the plot. Richard Curtis is unbeatable at creating hapless but kindly men who need a damn good love affair but who go about it in the most awkward way possible. Tim is a natural successor to Charles in Four Weddings and Will in Notting Hill, just more ginger. His characters give hope to hapless, hopeless men all over the world – on behalf of all such chaps, Mr Curtis has done us a great service – and, as always, the hopeless man succeeds (against all odds) with a beautiful woman. Tim is a very believable, likeable chap and you really want his blossoming romance to come to fruition. This element of the film is extremely heart-warming; and the comedy that ensues from it, as it does from the whole time travel story, is top notch. Indeed, some sequences in this film had me in complete stitches.

There is another side to it though – a rather sentimental side. Can you turn back time in order to avoid a horrific car crash, or a terminal disease? The former – not without other disastrous consequences; the latter – not at all. Does the sentimental side work? Well it certainly pings on your heartstrings and ends up boiling over with emotions, albeit in a terribly British, reserved sort of way. At least two ladies in the audience were moved to tears, and one actually had to leave the auditorium for a few minutes to compose herself. Whilst the plot never became unbelievable (apart from its central theme), I did feel that it dipped into mawkishness just a little to much. I won’t say anymore – I’ve probably already told you too much of the plot anyway. You’ll just have to go and see it to decide for yourself.

It’s crammed full of excellent performances, both in the leads and in the smaller parts too. I’ve not seen Domhnall Gleeson before and he’s absolutely brilliant as Tim, his hopeless haplessness gently developing into confidence and maturity. Rachel McAdams (also new to us) is Mary, the object of Tim’s desire, and she’s superb at conveying the sexiness of the start of a new relationship. It’s a great comic performance throughout. It goes without saying that Bill Nighy and Lindsay Duncan as Tim’s parents, are completely fantastic and steal virtually every scene they are in. Lydia Wilson is both feral and innocent as Kit Kat, Tim’s sister, and there’s great support too from Tom Hollander as the self-obsessed playwright friend of Tim’s father, Vanessa Kirby as Mary’s unreliably wild friend Joanna, Margot Robbie as Kit Kat’s glamorous pal Charlotte and Joshua McGuire as Tim’s nice-but-thoroughly-useless colleague Rory. It’s a very enjoyable and engrossing story and well worth seeing – just remember to take tissues for when it overdoses in schmaltz!

Review – Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa, Errol Flynn Filmhouse, Northampton, 1st September 2013

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Knowing me, Mr Chrisparkle, knowing you, gentle reader, A-HA! Sorry, couldn’t resist that. If you don’t know what that refers to, then obviously you’re not a fan of the early Alan Partridge, in which case I am slightly wondering why you are interested in an opinion about his latest and indeed only film, “Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa”. If Alan Partridge is a new comic creation to you, then you ought to know that he’s a narcissistic knob who was once a sports reporter on Radio Norwich, then promoted beyond his capabilities to host his own dire chat show, but who today is propping up the airwaves on some backwater station called North Norfolk Digital with the show “Mid Morning Matters”. If you have loved all Mr Partridge’s TV and radio appearances over the last twenty years you will know that, depending on the script, this would be either 0% or 100% hilarious.

100% it is. North Norfolk Digital is being bought out by a media conglomerate with no feeling for its slightly more middle-aged audience, and is only interested in yoof breakfast shows fronted by a smarmy young git who deplores anything aged over 23. Alan is confident that the new regime will respect his broadcasting gifts and keep him on the payroll, but aging DJ colleague Pat Farrell, played by Colm Meaney, fears it’s the end for him and his night-time radio snoozathon. Realising that it’s either Pat or Alan who has to go, Alan betrays Pat to the radio board, Pat gets sacked and Alan keeps his job. However, Pat doesn’t take this lying down and holds half the radio station staff hostage in a bizarre shotgun siege, and Alan is sent in to negotiate. Enough plot summary – you’ll have to watch the film to see how it works out.

As you might have guessed it’s a double spoof – not only the whole Alan Partridge/North Norfolk Digital thing (alas I have to break it to you that neither really exist) but also of the Hollywood hostage siege genre with Alan as a kind of East Anglian Bruce Willis. In many respects it’s quite a moral story – a criticism of big business barging its way into the everyday lives of ordinary people whom it is happy to destroy without any consideration for the personal fallout. However, with Alan Partridge at the helm, any moral turpitude is likely to stem from him. You’ll be delighted to know that his character is still as full of questionable taste, supreme arrogance, woeful ineptitude, pathetic cowardice, absurd prejudice, schoolboy smut and utter hypocrisy as ever he was.

It’s stacked full of LOL moments, many of them surprisingly subtle and under-egged so that it has a great lightness of touch and you never feel that one joke is being milked beyond its capacity. Whether it’s his escaping through a window only for his trousers and pants to get caught on the latch, or his hiding (literally) in a toilet there’s lots of physical comedy as well as that created from his character flaws and interactions with everyone else. There are some great performances from the supporting cast – Felicity Montagu is terrific as his long-suffering PA Lynn, all dolled up when she has to front the media, and there’s the unexpected pleasure of seeing Anna Maxwell Martin as the no-nonsense officer in charge of the police operation, visibly stretching Alan’s distrust of women in power.

A quick mention also to the great use of music in the film; regrettably Alan’s and my tastes in music coincide quite a lot, and seeing his totally uninhibited singalong to the radio in the car with full use of steering wheel bongos reminded me just how stupid I must look sometimes. The use of John Farnham’s “You’re The Voice” was brilliant and I bopped in my cinema seat something dreadful. So if you’re a Partridge fan, you’re going to love this film. I could easily imagine it being severely embarrassing if it had been dogged with a poor script, but instead it’s very well written, beautifully put together and extremely funny.

Review – Trap For Cinderella, Errol Flynn Filmhouse, Northampton, 23rd July 2013

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I think it’s fair to say we were a select little crowd that attended Tuesday night’s showing of Trap For Cinderella – I’m not sure we quite made it to double figures. Maybe the rather lame reviews it has received were to blame; and indeed I wasn’t expecting an awful lot from the film as a result. But both Mrs Chrisparkle and I were pleasantly surprised. We found it a very engrossing, well-told psychological thriller, with many a winding plot turn before the final reel.

To reveal too much of the story would spoil it for you, so I’ll be careful. Micky and Do (who are both girls, you wouldn’t know that from just seeing their names written down) were childhood friends who used to play together on holiday in France. Many years later they meet up in London where they both are now working. But Micky can’t remember anything of their old friendship, as she suffered terrible injuries from a gas explosion accident in the interim period, which resulted in considerable plastic surgery and 100% memory loss. All she can do is piece together her life up until the accident by discovering diaries and other documentation. Do, whose affection for Micky borders heavily on the creepy side, moves in with her and their close friendship seems to be secure until it all starts to unravel. And anything more I say will ruin it!

Micky is played by Tuppence Middleton, and she gives a great performance. She’s charismatic, enigmatic and very believable as both the girl who has completely lost her identity due to her accident, and as the lively outgoing arty girl with whom everyone wants to be friends. Alexandra Roach is superb as the rather unhinged Do, ebullient in the satisfaction of being best friends with Micky, and seemingly capable of any retribution when thwarted. Their on-screen partnership is really effective and the occasional hint of their relationship getting a little steamy is tastefully and subtly done. There’s also a very strong and slightly spooky performance by Kerry Fox as Julia, Micky’s aunt’s PA who has acted in loco parentis, but might not be as trustworthy as she seems. There’s classy support from Frances de la Tour and Alex Jennings too.

It’s adapted from a 1963 French novel by Sébastien Japrisot and is directed by Iain Softley. It’s a very atmospheric and stylish film, with a tight script, strong performances, and some moments of great suspense. It’s also a very attractive picture to watch, with wide sweeping views and a nice attention to detail with its French locations. The story resolves itself in a very satisfactory way – sufficiently intriguing to keep your attention all the way through, all loose ends are tied up and you even get a sense of justice at the end. There may be a question mark over some of the motivation for what happens, but in a sense that only serves to keep you guessing and talking about it on the way home. I don’t think it deserves its poor reviews, and you should give it a try!

Review – Much Ado About Nothing, Errol Flynn Filmhouse, Northampton, 15th July 2013

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Shakespeare and I have a bit of a love/hate relationship. I tend to love him, but sometimes he doesn’t like me quite so much, especially when I messed up badly in my Shakespeare paper at Oxford. As a play, Much Ado About Nothing and I have never really bonded. I’ve never seen it performed in a theatre; I read it, at university, in order to write an essay on it and some other comedies, but it didn’t bounce off the page to me, and for the most part I think it’s fair to say that neither of us have given each other a second thought over the intervening years. So when I thought I’d do a quick flick through the text before seeing Joss Whedon’s highly personal film version, I was surprised to realise that I don’t actually have an Arden edition copy. I ended up having to look through the Dowager Mrs Chrisparkle’s old Shakespeare volume that was awarded to her at school in 1935 “for industry and progress”; and to be honest, it wasn’t that helpful.

As you may know, gentle reader, I am only just starting to catch up on cinema going after about fifteen years of barely seeing a thing, thanks to the supremely comfortable new Errol Flynn Filmhouse opening up seven minutes walk from home. So the name Joss Whedon doesn’t mean much to me; I had to check all the things he’s done before on wikipedia (so it must be true), and it looks a pretty impressive CV to me. He even co-wrote Toy Story, for goodness’ sake, so he must be good. I knew that this film had some extremely esoteric elements to it – for example, it was shot in a mere twelve days; the set is Whedon’s own home in Santa Monica; the cast are largely a repertory company who have appeared in many other of Whedon’s projects; and it’s all in black and white. The first three I can understand, getting it done quickly, no commuting, and working with your friends all sounds very appealing. But why the black and white? I’m not quite sure what that gained – you definitely get a sense of it being older and more historical, even though the setting is entirely up to date. Sometimes a black and white still portrait can be more expressive and atmospheric than an identical colour version – maybe that was the effect he was trying to achieve. I’m glad I never followed a career in cinematography.

To get you up to speed, the story is a simple one. In a nutshell, Benedick and Beatrice doth protest their dislike for each other too much (very reminiscent of Katharine and Petruchio in Taming of the Shrew), so their friends scheme to make them “fall in love” within a week, simply by getting them to overhear “private” conversations with others who talk about how much the one fancies the other. Alongside that, the decent but stupid Claudio, who has fallen in love with Beatrice’s cousin Hero, allows himself to be duped by the wicked Don John and his acolytes into thinking that Hero is putting herself about a bit; to the extent that he publicly jilts her at the altar. The bumbling constable Dogberry and his associates unwittingly stumble upon the plot against Claudio so that the truth eventually comes out and multiple marriages ensue; all’s well that ends well, one might say.

Mrs Chrisparkle and I both thought it was a little slow to start; there’s quite a lot of scene-setting at the beginning and meeting a lot of people who, without the aid of a theatre programme, you really haven’t got a clue who they are. Personally I also found it very softly spoken throughout, and I certainly missed quite a lot of the dialogue at first. However, when it really starts to get going, as the mischievous plots to get Benedick and Beatrice together develop, it gains a good momentum and at times is really funny. The scene where Benedick overhears Don Pedro, Leonato and Claudio’s conversation about him and Beatrice is full of laugh-out-loud physical comedy, as is the subsequent eavesdropping of Beatrice on the similar conversation between Hero and Margaret the maid. There’s also a brilliantly funny scene between Benedick and Beatrice where he is trying to impress her with his physical exercise prowess; and the scene where Claudio rejects Hero is also extremely dramatic. Some of the best moments, however, are reserved for the final few scenes where Dogberry and his team bring the villains to book, and it all ends happily ever after.

Alexis Denisof and Amy Acker invest the roles of Benedick and Beatrice with huge personality and splendid self-interest. They’re appropriately mischievous and waspish when sparring, and deliver some very nice pratfalls as the plot thickens. Once they have protested their love for each other, the scene where Beatrice demands Benedick kills Claudio, out of respect for her cousin’s apparent death from grief, is very moving and serious, and played with all the necessary gravitas. Fran Kranz is a very good Claudio, boyishly enthusiastic for his virtuous Hero, then turning all spoilt and savage as he laps up the poison fed by the schemers against him. Jillian Morgese is a very dignified Hero, with a very nice line in underplayed comedy in the scene with Margaret for Beatrice to overhear.

The other really superb performance is from Nathan Fillion as Dogberry, the character now evolved into the role of head of security at the Governor’s residence, sharp-suited yet still a totally blithering idiot, shocked but not remotely speechless at Conrade’s calling him an ass, and with a fantastically misplaced sense of his own self-importance. He enjoys terrific support from Tom Lenk as his even more ridiculous sidekick Verges.

It’s a really accessible and entertaining adaptation, sensitive to both the original text and the need to make it relevant to today. As Mrs C said on the way home, they must have had such fun making it. Definitely worth seeing.

Review – Populaire, Errol Flynn Filmhouse, Northampton, 9th July 2013

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We’re rather new to this art-cinema lark. Having only seen a handful of films in the last few years, we’re now just a short stroll from this splendid new venue in Northampton and it would be a crime not to take advantage of it. I’m pretty sure it’s been a couple of decades since Mrs Chrisparkle and I last saw a foreign language film, and I was wondering how we would manage both to read the subtitles and watch the film at the same time. Funny how it becomes second nature after a few minutes. Anyway, our first foreign language film, certainly of this century, was Populaire, a French romcom, which also happens to be its writer-director, Régis Roinsard’s first full length film too. I think that puts Régis and us on an equal footing.

It’s a rather charming story set in the late 1950s of a homely beguiling young girl who dreams of becoming a secretary in order to get away from the humdrum existence of helping out in her father’s village shop. Fortunately she has the amazing gift of being able to type super-quickly even if it is with just two fingers. Her skills, and her guile, impress her boss to enter her into a series of speed-typing contests; and as her proficiency improves, so deeper becomes the relationship between her and the boss, although it’s definitely a bumpy ride.

The film provides a great late 1950s vibe, with terrific attention to detail with costumes and hairstyles and a wonderful soundtrack, which maybe feels a little more early 60s, but is still eminently chic and groovy. It’s also very funny in a positive sort of way and you spend the entire length of the film smiling at the characters and their situations. Mrs C found it particularly refreshing to see a romcom that wasn’t Hollywood, although we’re neither of us expert enough to identify the elements that would actually make up a Hollywood romcom. This, however, felt much more charming, chic, stylish than anything we could imagine Hollywood could offer. It’s not all lovey-dovey though, they get some real drama going too with the typing championships; as the competition gets tougher, and bitchier, you’ve never seen typewriters used as a weapon of war like this. No quarter is given in these battles for keyboard supremacy.

There’s a lovely performance by Déborah François as Rose, the manic typist but useless secretary, with whom you have complete sympathy throughout, battling her way through her career and her contests and hoping that she finds love with the debonair but difficult Louis Echard, played by Romain Duris. Bérénice Bejo and Shaun Benson are Echard’s friends, the Taylors, who support them – in different ways – when things go wayward – Echard’s relationship with Bob Taylor reminded me very much of Higgins and Pickering in My Fair Lady. There’s elements of Pretty Woman in there too. And there are some fantastic typing bitches too, played by Mélanie Bernier and Sara Haskell. It’s slightly incredible to think that in those days they really would pack out theatres to cheer on their favourite typist at a speed-typing championship; but apparently such events still exist. It’s a delightful film which kept us fully entertained. I’d heartily recommend it to you.

Review – Behind the Candelabra, Errol Flynn Filmhouse, Northampton, 4th July 2013

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I remember when it was first mooted that the Royal and Derngate would give birth to a little arts cinema on its side patch of grass. We thought it sounded a very exciting prospect; at the same time we were a little sad that we thought it meant sacrificing a piece of green in the centre of town. X months later, and the Errol Flynn Filmhouse opened on 21st June and I’m delighted to say it’s thoroughly amazing. Particularly on a rare summery evening like yesterday, when the path to the cinema is graced with tables and chairs, with cinemagoers enjoying a refreshing glass of wine or a sensible coffee before the screening. And there was no need to worry about the loss of open space – the area outside has been landscaped beautifully and looks much greener than it did before.

The cinema itself was constructed as its own separate pod, sited at a slightly jaunty angle to the side of the theatre, but with a separate entrance to the box office and bar, and an integrated door to access the main building for other facilities. There are new happy welcoming staff, a range of different and rather classy eats and drinks, with the ability to take elegant wine glasses (made of glass – gosh!) and bottles even (incredible gosh!) into the cinema, which you can place on the nifty little tables that separate the seats. Ah yes, the seats!! They are of sumptuous black leather, they recline (useful for nodding off during a boring film no doubt), the seat numbers are discreetly obvious, if that isn’t an oxymoron, and they are fabulously comfortable. The auditorium is stylish, with a crystal clear unobstructed view of the screen and top quality sound. On the way home Mrs Chrisparkle said it was simply the best cinema she’s ever visited. I predict a rekindling of my interest in the art of film as a result of this terrific new venue for Northampton.

So our first choice of film at this cinema was Behind the Candelabra, the story of the relationship between Liberace and Scott Thorson, based on Thorson’s book of the same name. I had presumed this would be something of a “kiss and tell” account, which I would normally think was a somewhat scurrilous and unworthy practice. However, if Liberace did actually treat Scott Thorson in the way that the film depicts, then I’d say he was entirely justified in spilling the beans. The film cleverly shows how the 17 year old Thorson was one of a line of younger men that Liberace met, fancied, bedded, and kept as a luxury captive for a while; then got bored of and moved on when the next suitable young studlet came into sight.

It’s a really interesting, enjoyable and engrossing film, with a well-written and witty screenplay, bringing a lot of subtle and not so subtle humour to the first part of the story and making you very sympathetic to Thorson’s rather sad plight in the second half. Swayed by Liberace’s style and showmanship, and flattered by his attention, he quickly loses his independence and even his identity as he gets wrapped up in the star’s world. One aspect of this was Scott’s undergoing facial surgery at Liberace’s insistence so that he looked more like him; you can only imagine how much of a mental torture that would become when the relationship started to go sour. Following the surgery he ended up on a disastrous cocktail of drugs, from which, by the sound of it, he has never really recovered.

It’s a great cast and they work together brilliantly. Michael Douglas is an unnervingly realistic Liberace, brash and charismatic at his glittery piano, creepily predatory in his private relationships, pathetic and broken in his final days. Matt Damon is also superb as Scott, moving convincingly through a ten year timeline as he develops from young animal trainer to kept plaything, then as a discarded drug addict and finally undertaking a calm reconciliation with Liberace at the end of the star’s life. Dan Aykroyd plays Liberace’s agent Seymour with no-nonsense bullish determination, and there is a fantastically funny performance by Rob Lowe as the plastic surgery guru Dr Startz. Other excellent support is provided by Debbie Reynolds as Liberace’s mother, a dab hand on the poker machines, and Bruce Ramsay as Liberace’s bitchy houseboy Carlucci. Liberace’s music is given a new lease of life by the late Marvin Hamlisch, who arranged the score in what would be his final film.

Steven Soderbergh, the director, had difficulty raising the funding for this film as many studios said it was “too gay”, whatever that means. Congratulations to the Errol Flynn Filmhouse for showing the film anyway – when Lady Duncansby enquired at the local Vue if they would be showing it, they said no because they considered it “unsuitable for Northampton”. Yes, the main characters in the film are gay but the issues of relationships, dependence, manipulation, loyalty, charisma, and so on are universal themes that have applied to everyone regardless of sexuality over the centuries. The film has had a very successful run here, and I believe they are bringing it back for at least one extra date. Very enjoyable and definitely worth seeing!

Another film seen – Skyfall

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If you are a regular visitor to these pages, dear reader, you will know that we don’t go to the cinema much. In fact, the last time was approximately 22 months ago, and I don’t even think I’ve watched a film all the way through on dvd or on tv since then. I’ve always considered the cinema to be an inferior art to the theatre by virtue of the fact that it isn’t live. When you see a play, it is actually happening, then and there right in front of your eyes (or behind a tall man in front of you if you happen to be in Row C of the Milton Keynes theatre stalls). But a film isn’t real. You can’t go close to the stage and get spat at by the actors. Every performance is identical – the actors cannot grow into their characters as a run gets longer. There is no possibility of a mishap. That shared experience of interaction between the audience and the cast becomes just a one-way street.

However, there’s a lot you can do on a cinema screen that you can’t do on a stage. You can transport the audience to exciting locations. You can depict extraordinary effects. You can make it seem like a man can fly with no strings attached. You can safely engulf a building in flames or plunge deep into water and stay dry. But mainly, as it seems to me at the moment, you can crisply and cleanly kill lots of people without an instant’s thought as to the consequences.

I’d forgotten how much I loathe cinema violence. Even before Skyfall started, the four or five trailers we saw that were considered suitable for a 12A certificate each contained scenes of violence. Even the “comedy” film they were trailing (didn’t look that funny to me) started off with several instances of people being punched in the face. I’m afraid I find it all very depressing. At some point in recent years the comedic effect of slipping on a banana skin (riotously funny I’m sure you’ll agree) has become a much more painful reality. Wit has been sacrificed for action. So many people die in your average action film nowadays that I’m surprised they’re not all sponsored by funeral directors.

Take Skyfall for example – the opening, action-packed, chase scene has a vast number of instances of destruction on the streets of Istanbul; true, I don’t think you saw anyone actually die, but all those car accidents, damage to peoples’ shops and wares in the bazaar, and then the digger on the roof of the train terrorising its passengers, will all have led to massive injuries and a severely overworked Turkish Health Service. And if you say to me it’s just entertainment, and that you’re not meant to think that deeply about those unseen consequences, I will reply that’s a major reason for the increase in general violence in our society today.

Rant over. I know I’m an old fuddy-duddy who doesn’t get out much. Actually I get out a huge amount, but you get my drift. You won’t believe how long it has been since I last saw a Bond film. I think I’ve seen them all up until… Diamonds are Forever, which is 1971 according to wikipedia. James Bond’s no longer Scottish, who knew! But the reviews of Skyfall have been very positive, and with nothing much else to do on Sunday afternoon, we thought we’d give it a try.

Fresh rant: I hate it now that when you go to your local Vue you get no sense of the artistry of cinema whatsoever. The box office (ha!) is now a basically a long bar that is an homage to gluttony. Every supersized sugary drink you could ever not need, combined with the biggest range of chocolates and sweets all paying reverence to a bottomless pit containing metric tonnes of syrupy popcorn. The assistant looks shocked when you just ask for tickets to the film. I used to mock the Dowager Mrs Chrisparkle when she would complain bitterly that they never show you to your seat anymore – but she was right, it was one of the first symptoms of that slippery slope that today means you have to fumble around trying to find your seats whilst fat cinemagoers lunge to protect their two hours’ worth of calories as you try to squeeze past.

And breathe, and relax. Destruction aside, that first scene of Skyfall is amazing. Seriously, if they (presumably) had to observe some health and safety precautions it must have taken meticulous care to produce that extraordinary race around Istanbul and the Grand Bazaar. The scene ends with a gunshot and the wounded body plummeting into a river, where you see it plunging down a vast waterfall. I ask you, how on earth did he manage to survive that? Ridiculous!

Nevertheless, it’s a pretty good story all in all, and it held my attention throughout. There were a few scenes that I thought were a little too long – I got a bit bored in the long preamble to the final encounter between the good guys and the bad guys, and Mrs C thought the opening credits took away all the momentum of the first scene. As an old mate pointed out, Bond films are still as sexist as hell – the scene where a woman is murdered whilst balancing a glass of whisky on her head, with Bond’s reaction: “waste of a good whisky” kind of leaves a dirty taste in the mouth. I did like the way that earlier Bond gadgets made a reappearance though – I found that quite reassuring. The acting was very good – I particularly liked Judi Dench’s M – she could make reading the Argos catalogue sound like Shakespeare, and it was good that you got to see both her tough exterior and vulnerable insides. Javier Bardem was a suitably snide and vindictive villain, and there was excellent support from Rory Kinnear as Tanner, M’s assistant, Ben Whishaw as Q and Albert Finney as Bond’s parents’ old gamekeeper. I thought Berenice Lim Marlohe was going to turn out to be an excellent new Bond girl – alas I was wrong, more’s the pity. To be honest, I’m still grieving for Diana Rigg in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service.

And what of Daniel Craig? Gentle reader you will already have made up your mind years ago as to whether he’s good at this game – but actually the only time I’ve seen him before was when he waited for the Queen during the Olympics Opening Ceremony. In comparison to the suave, sophisticated and, let’s face it, smug Sean Connery, he’s a very terse, unshowy Bond. Economic with the communication skills, he’s actually much more like what I would imagine your typical secret service “spy” to be like. Although to be fair I think I do actually know a spy in real life and he’s not like that at all! I enjoyed Daniel Craig’s performance very much and particularly liked seeing the unfit, not-up-to-scratch Bond of the early part of the film – makes you think there’s hope for everyone.

So we both enjoyed the film, despite a few heavily far-fetched moments (surviving that initial gunshot, derailing an empty underground train) and despite the wanton death and destruction of men, women and property. I wonder how many security guards were shot dead in the course of that film? You know they’d only be on minimum wage too. It’s not right.

Given I haven’t seen any Bond movies between Diamonds are Forever and Skyfall, tell me two or three really good ones from the years in between that I ought to see – I’d appreciate your suggestions!

Another Film Seen (well a DVD actually) The Social Network

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It was our anniversary a few weeks ago. Not a major one, just an in-between one. So I bought Mrs Chrisparkle everything you needed for a night in. A box of chocolates, a bottle of champagne, a bottle of Saint-Emilion (sheep as lamb syndrome) and a DVD. I say “DVD”, but in fact it was our first ever blu-ray purchase, as our new “Sound Bar” (so trendy) is also a blu-ray player. “You’ll notice such a difference”, said the salesman.

Well the chocolates were eaten in pretty short order, so I thought I’d better buy another box. That too got consumed rapido, and the Saint-Emilion went the way of all flesh last Sunday. But that left the champagne (really nice) and the DVD. I bought “The Social Network” because a) we’d heard of it; b) I use Facebook a lot; c) it was up for a number of Oscars; d) it was in the blu-ray charts; and e) it was the only film in the charts that wasn’t either violent or for kiddywinks. Ergo, The Social Network was the recipient of my purchasing power.

It was pretty early on in the proceedings that we both agreed we really didn’t care one iota what happened to any of the characters. Mrs Chrisparkle was prepared to bale out about twenty minutes in, I urged caution in the hope that it might improve. It didn’t really, but we did stay to the bitter end.

Did you ever see Peter Shaffer’s “Amadeus”? One of the criticisms of the older generation of the young upstart Mozart was that his music had “too many notes”. Well here is a film that has too many words. Far too many. From the start to the finish you are subject to a verbal assault that bombards the senses and leaves you drained. I have no doubt that Jesse Eisenberg’s portrayal of Mark Zuckerberg is an accurate depiction of someone with Asperger’s Syndrome or Narcissistic Personality Disorder or whatever it is that he has, but I found the constant pounding of the words out of his mouth intensely tiring.

It’s certainly a clever cinematic trick that one actor (Armie Hammer) played both the Winklevoss twins. In fact I didn’t realise it until I came to research this blog post. Presumably that’s why it won the Oscar for Best Film Editing. Well I can’t argue with that. The scene where the twins were complaining to the President (was that his title?) of Harvard was probably the most entertaining of the whole film. As usual, I hadn’t seen any of these actors before. I didn’t think any particular role was performed in a knock-out excellent way.

The big problem though for us was that there was no feeling of suspense at all in the film – we knew about the court case over the “ownership” of Facebook, so we knew where it was all heading; most of the characters were either unpleasant or one-dimensional so there was no identifying with anyone; and the script struck me as remarkably unwitty – perhaps I’m too old to laugh at rowers with their pants down or a guy being accompanied by a chicken. The whole effect was to make me want to use Twitter more.

So I’m reading the reviews on the front of the dvd box: “Masterpiece” (The Times); “An American Landmark” (Rolling Stone); “One of the truly defining films of its era” (Radio Times); “Inspiring” (Daily Mail); “Smart, exciting and thought-provoking” (The Sunday Times) and I wonder which film’s screening they actually attended. Remind me to take no notice of these organs’ arts reviews in future.

And how was the blu-ray aspect? It was fine. I guess I was expecting something more though. I didn’t think it made that much of a difference. Still, the champagne was nice.