The Voice of Hind Rajab: Movie Review

Cast: Saja Kilani, Motaz Malhees, Amer Hiehel, Clara Khoury
Director: Kaouther Ben Hania

There's a degree of provocation in Four Daughters' director Kaouther Ben Hania's The Voice of Hind Rajab, a distressing film that meshes The Guilty's setting with a 24-style story set in the war in Gaza.

But the biggest shock of all is that it's based on true events - and is incredibly harrowing, thanks to Hania's one single choice: to use the emergency audio of a 5-year-old girl caught in the middle of a horrific conflict in Gaza.

The Voice of Hind Rajab has an awful familiarity to it - a shift worker in the Palestinian Red Crescent exhausted after a long night and about to clock off, a worker caught in an unimaginable situation and a manager seemingly faced with an unenviable choice to make.

When a call comes in from a little girl trapped in her car as the tanks and guns fire all around her, the volunteers race to save her from afar. But what should be an 8-minute rescue run for a local ambulance turns into a bureaucratic nightmare where nobody can win and the victim is the little girl, Hind Rajab, whose family are "sleeping" next to her having been shot to death.

This searing docudrama is sickening from the get-go. 

As Hind's calls become more desperate and her sparse words relay the absolute and abject terror she's facing, the emotional toll hits on all levels. Whether it's the frustration of Omar who takes the call that a simple journey can't take place or the rising tensions between him and his manager who has to look at the bigger picture, Hania crafts something compelling in its suspense and awful in its reality.

Using the actual audio is the final devastating blow and reinforces the horror that those trapped within the Gaza War have faced on a daily basis. But rather than lecture, Hania uses the escalating unease to point out how the bureaucracy is broken, the system is failing and the cost in the war between Israel and Palestine is all too human.

A final twist at the end of this unmissable piece is utterly devastating. 

Be warned, anyone with any semblance of heart will be utterly destroyed by The Voice of Hind Rajab. It's an urgent call to never forget the cost of war and a depressing reminder that worldwide, this kind of harrowing story continues to play out.

The Voice of Hind Rajab is playing at the New Zealand International Film Festival - for screening times, visit nziff.co.nz

The Devil Wears Prada 2: Disney+ Movie Review

Cast: Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway, Stanley Tucci, Emily Blunt, Justin Theroux, Simone Ashley, Kenneth Branagh, BJ Novak
Director: David Frankel

Twenty years ago, The Devil Wears Prada provided a sharp and satirical look at the world of fashion and the behaviour of toxic bosses. But the sequel is as shallow as fashion can be - all sheen and no substance below, a mannequin dressed in haute couture, yet shapeless and without form underneath.

Sure, there are the trademark barbs and bitter remarks tossed about by both Streep's beastly Runway fashion magazine editor Miranda Priestly (although she's warned by HR what she can and can't say, a la Scrubs 2026 reboot), but in a tale about the media landscape changing, this feels less insightful and as disposable as fast fashion itself.

Two decades on, Andy Sachs (Hathaway, solid and good at the more comedic elements of the script) has been working as a journalist and is about to receive an award when she's informed that her entire publication is being shut down after a buy-out. Meanwhile, Runway editor Miranda Priestly (Streep, haughty and indignant) is on the cusp of getting a prestigious promotion when an article promoting a brand using a sweatshop goes viral. 

However, when the owner of Runway magazine contacts Andy to head up their features department and tidy up the mess, it puts Andy and her former nemesis Miranda back on a collision path...

There are some things to admire in The Devil Wears Prada 2, a film that initially has ambition before squandering it all for a series of promo shoots, fashion darlings walking in montages and continual location changes that look ripped from a travel magazine's video pages before an antagonising sentimental ending that threatens to drown itself in syrup..

To begin with, the film seems to want to launch barbs at the industry itself, how media has turned on itself, how traditional media has given way to chasing page impressions, a rage against consolidation of media, and how there's no escaping from how one person can make you feel and act, no matter how far in your past they are.

But it throws all that to one side in a truly formulaic movie whose plot twists are ludicrously telegraphed and which has absolutely no consequences are felt. Characters appear and then disappear when their arc appears to be done, and most of what transpires is neatly wrapped up in a feel-good bow that belies some of the tart nature of the dialogue early on.

A Lady Gaga cameo appears to be nothing more than a promo for a song of her own catalogue; there's a Last Supper allegory that becomes literal and there's a railing at one point by Priestly about the dangers of AI. It all feels very timely, but it also somehow doesn't make the film timeless.

What's most criminal about The Devil Wears Prada 2 is how much it's abandoned the comedy elements of the story, in favour of something a little more piecemeal. It feels like the dramatic scenes have been bolted together in a myriad of ways (and don't even let's start on the Coke can product placement within) that all feel as slight and trivial as what Priestly's raging against.

Yet within the thinly sketched movie, there are some stand-out moments.

Some truly delicious one-liners are espoused, Tucci has real warmth and heart as Nigel, the perennially put-upon assistant, and both Hathaway and a slightly defanged Streep step back into their original iconic characters with ease. Some of the best scenes are in the cold interactions they have early on and the later thawing of that relationship. Emily Blunt steals the show once again as the vengeful former assistant now working for Dior. Fans of the original will be happy with it, everyone else may find their patience sorely tested in parts.

Early on, Tucci's Nigel delivers the verdict that "villains are always the most interesting" but in the case of this sequel, the devil's not quite in the details. 

As the iconic Madonna song Vogue (which makes its reappearance here) goes: "Strike a pose, there's nothing to it." It's just a shame The Devil Wears Prada 2 used that as a mantra for its own execution.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day: Movie Review

Cast: Tom Holland, Zendaya, Jacob Batalon, Mark Ruffalo, Sadie Sink
Director: Destin Daniel Cretton

There's a lot to love about Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings director Destin Daniel Cretton's new Spider-Man film.

Chiefly, some inspired martial art fight scenes and taut action pieces, as well as Tom Holland's most impressive performance in his fourth outing as the webbed wonder.

But there's also a lot to feel weary about in the latest Marvel movie as the weight of expectation hangs heavy over the MCU universe ahead of the unleashing of Avengers: Doomsday in December this year. 

Four years after Peter Parker helped the entire city of New York forget who he was - including his amour MJ (Zendaya) and best friend Ned (Batalon) - the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man is combating crime but breaking under the emotional weight of doing it alone.

With a battered body and a crushed spirit, Peter finds himself pushed to the limit when a new threat appears in the form of a telepath (Stranger Things' Sadie Sink), hellbent on their own mission and seemingly unstoppable.

That, coupled with the fact Peter's powers are changing after years of trauma, presents plenty of problems for Spidey. But the biggest problem may be the loneliness and the cost of being a superhero.

Emotional edges and a strong performance from Holland help Spider-Man: Brand New Day to new heights, but as he retreats to emotional emptiness and isolation, grappling with a darkness, there's a distinct feeling of deja vu as elements of the Venom black suit storyline flit in and out.

And while the inclusion of fellow PTSD-sufferer and lonely soul Frank Castle AKA The Punisher (Bernthal, gritty as usual) makes for a good bedfellow and banter, the appearance of the Hulk in his monstrous form adds little to proceedings, other than to satiate a few moments of fan-fiction writ large.

Yet when the film slows down and concentrates on the moments between MJ, Ned and Peter and the relationship, the depth really shows and impresses. The main plot's been kept under wraps by Marvel bigwigs (and the urging of Sony to keep it unspoiled) but needless to say, it's not as strong as it warrants such secrecy and feels more like a course correction ahead of the upcoming mega-epic Doomsday.

Zendaya's underused here, but perhaps wisely. The film works better with less of the moping that has felt part of the previous films and there's a real feeling of tragedy when star-crossed lovers MJ and Peter meet. There's also a lovely closing coda that feels true to what makes Spider-Man work in his connections with others that could have involved someone else, but chooses not to do so and is all the better for it.

The latest film is about the weight of adulthood, the loss of friendships and the toll life takes on you. As a result, it's less of the quippy Spider-Man you've come to know and love, but Holland sells the transition with power and poise. There are genuinely heartbreaking moments of truth within the action sequences and while this Spider's web continues to grow in terms of the wider universe, it's in the smaller moments that the Spider-Man power is more obvious.

The credits show snapshots of life around New York, the city Spider-Man's chosen to protect and save - and it's here that Cretton really marks out a point of difference for the overly familiar can Peter be a man and Spider-Man at the same time question. It's a reminder of the impact we have on others and amid the big-scale bluster of CGI destruction that happens in parts of the film, it's good to see that even when it's over-stuffed with spectacle, Spider-Man never loses sight of what truly matters to his story.

Hen: Movie Review

Director György Pálfi.

The old adage of why did the chicken cross the road is given a new spin in this film from Hungarian director György Pálfi.

Encompassing both birth and death, Hen begins with the laying of an egg inside the confines of a factory farm for chickens. As the little chick breaks free, chirping away, life seems full of possibilities - but because of the colour of the little chick (black), the hen's plucked away from those going to slaughter and taken by a lorry driver as a feal to have at home.

However, when the hen leaps out of the cab window at a fuel station out of curiosity, it encounters a new world of adventure - and danger - as it ends up at a seafood taverna, and whose owner is living a double life.

Much like Eo did, Hen presents a sympathetic and almost simplistic way of animal life, looking to humans for salvation, empathy and company. And much like Eo, there's a distinct danger in every interaction that the plucky hen faces. Whether it's a fox stalking on the side of the road or the pecking order within the hen house, Pálfi's film offers a humanistic and grounded approach to the class reality of the animals.

There's humour within too - and shocks (one scene sees the hen inadvertently cause a massacre) but Pálfi never loses his eye for what makes this universal tale so engaging. Sure, there's a human allegory here and a tale that shows an insight into life in Greece, Europe, human trafficking and the migrant journey, but the film never looks to be overly didactic and instead concentrates on ensuring that what plays out is thoughtful and moving.

With its thriller edges and some murderous moments, this is a strangely uplifting film that shows once again, the most effective of tales can come from this simplest of executions.

Hen is playing at the New Zealand International Film Festival - for screening times, visit nziff.co.nz

Marty Supreme: Blu Ray Review

Cast: Timothee Chalamet, Kevin O'Leary, Gwyneth Paltrow, Odessa A'Zion, Fran Drescher
Director: Josh Safdie

Not a film to be viewed if you've already had a fraught day, Josh Safdie's Marty Supreme is a ramshackle, hyperactive sports film like you've never seen before.

In fact, it's probably fair to say it's more about the journey, than the ultimate destination. 

Chalamet plays the overly confident and tunnel-visioned Marty Mauser, who's an excellent shoe salesman in 1950s New York, but whose soul is not in it - despite the owner wanting to make him manager. More a hustler who's convinced himself he can talk his way into anything he wants, Marty is about to take part in a table tennis tournament in the UK but is short on cash. 

Holding his colleague at gunpoint and claiming the money is owed to him, he heads abroad, only to lose in the finals to Japan's Endo. But undeterred, he sees this as just the start after romancing a fallen Hollywood star (Paltrow) and charming her millionaire husband (Shark Tank's O'Leary). However, anything the chaotic Marty seems to touch descends into mayhem.

Marty Supreme starts in a rush of hormonal desire and doesn't really let up from the get-go. With a frenetic eye for a series of episodic sequences, Safdie, along with Chalamet, constructs a tightly wound tale about a man trying to get what he wants with consequences for everyone but him.

With extreme close-ups that give you a view into every pore of some of the characters, and loud needle drops of music throughout, Safdie manages an immersive experience that's nerve-shredding at times in its intensity, even if the story does occasionally feel repetitive and unthreaded.

Yet in the middle of it all is Chalamet, whose nervy and wiry performance is compelling, no matter how unlikeable his Marty Mauser becomes. Despite an unearned ending that's not entirely convincing, Chalamet does more than enough to take you along for the ride.

Marty Supreme may be a claustrophobic ride of tension and an unnerving one at times that dips its toes into a myriad of genres, from crime caper to romance film to Bonnie and Clyde-antics, but it's well worth a watch - as long as you're up to date with your blood pressure medicines.

H Is For Hawk: Movie Review

Cast: Claire Foy, Brendan Gleeson, Lesley Duncan, Denise Gough
Director: Philippa Lowthorpe

Based on Helen MacDonald's own memoir, H Is For Hawk is a broodingly introspective piece about grief and coping with loss.

Cambridge Academic Helen spends her time as a teacher taking her students to the pub and engaging with them on their course work - but when she receives a call that her photographer father (Gleeson, mostly glimpsed in flashbacks) has collapsed and died while out on a job, her world falls into a tailspin.

As she negotiates the next stage of her life, she decides to take up falconry, buying a goshawk to train after years of bird-watching with her father. But the new hobby becomes all-consuming, leading family and friends to fear that Helen is inert and unable to move on.

While H Is For Hawk's 2-hour run time can feel drawn out in places, the film's slow peeling back of the layers of grief prove to be just about compelling enough to keep you engaged - though in truth, a lot of that is due to some handsome cinematography and Foy's restrained and soulful performance.

It's perhaps fascinating that scenes between Foy and the hawk (named Mabel) are perhaps the more engaging, as the rest of the film feels more like a traditionally dour affair, that has a degree of predictability about it.

Family and friends fret over Helen's over-identification with the hawk and Lowthorpe's movie does little to move on the idea that Helen's projecting onto the bird and hiding behind the need to keep her indoors and in darkness - there's little to no subtlety in the parallels here and the conclusion is no real surprise to anyone.

But in the final moments, as Helen and the hawk stand alone on a bucolic paradise, the sun hazily retreating in the background, the movie's less interested in providing ultimate closure and more concerned with raising the spectre of a life after.

It's just a shame there aren't more of these moments scattered throughout - as it is, and no matter how strong Foy is, H Is For Hawk flies, but it sadly rarely soars.