Dora and the Lost City of Gold: DVD Review

Dora and the Lost City of Gold: DVD Review

Can you say "Not quite sure what it wants to be?"

The Dora the Explorer film, with Muppets director James Bobin behind the helm, is a family friendly slice of Indiana Jones, coming of age, Tomb Raider-esque oddity.

Moner is Dora, prone to asking questions of nobody (something her father, the excellently cast Michael Pena, hopes she'll grow out of) and who has been brought up in the jungle.

When her parents decide to go on a quest to find the ancient city of Parapata, Dora is sent to the city to reunite with her cousin Diego (Wahlberg) and to experience the horrors of high school.
Roundly mocked by the cliques for her perkiness and odd precocious behaviour, Dora finds herself- along with her unwilling high school compadres - thrown into an adventure when she's kidnapped after her parents go missing...

Mixing a huge dollop of self-awareness, with an irritatingly winning ever-chipper performance from Moner, Dora and the Lost City of Gold will prove successful with its audience who've grown up with the animated explorer and her wily ways.

But Bobin injects a degree of magicality into the film, peppering it with silly songs that are supposed to inform and entertain ("Can you say severe neurotoxicity? ", Dora says at one point) and which nods to the show's MO.

There are messages of self-belief, and of staying true to yourself which will appeal to the outsiders among the viewers, and there are moments, particularly during the final exploration, that are a bit scarier for younger ends of the audience, but which pay homage to the Indiana Jones-esque elements.

Ultimately, Dora and the Lost City of Gold is a solid slice of family film - it's not too memorable in the wash, but with a winning Moner giving her all and keeping the energy up throughout, she's one explorer you're happy to tag along with for the adventure.

Merry Christmas one and all

Merry Christmas one and all

So, 2019 is done, and the end of the decade too.

Life's been pressing this year, so it's unlikely there will be a best and worst of the year - and in truth, most of what the cinema has presented this year has been middling dross with highlights too far and few in between.

It's also been a year where many have concentrated on the bad rather than the good, and it falls to bucking the trend at the end of the year.

Thanks for the support of this website, its reviews, and its news and content - wishing you all a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year.

And if you're in need of people to lean on this festive time, reach out - don't hold back, as there's been too much of this year already - and help is always a call away.

Here's to 2020.

Midsommar: Blu Ray Review

Midsommar: Blu Ray Review

Director Ari Aster's next project after Hereditary is a descent into a psychological freefall, rather than an out-and-out freakout fest.

The ever wonderful Florence Pugh stars as Dani and Jack Reynor stars as Christian, her feckless boyfriend. When something happens to Dani (an event best left unspoiled, thanks to the pre-titles play out of dread), the pair try to get back on track.

Invited by Christian to tag along to a trip to a commune in Sweden where he and a handful of mates are heading for research, Dani finds her uncertainty in their relationship escalating.

It's exacerbated by the pagan rituals and lifestyle of those at the Swedish midsummer festival in Hälsingland .... but there's more going on than any of them realise.

If Hereditary was psychological terror, then Midsommar is the break-up album.

A sprawling, slow-moving descent that's in no rush to unveil its hand, the film's commitment to unsettling can be interpreted in many ways.

Whether it's a take on Americans crashing European ways of life and disrupting cultural matters, or simply a feeling of off-kilter unusual behaviours, Midsommar's desire to unnerve is there from the start - and carefully telegraphed.

Artfully executed by Aster, and beautifully choreographed by DP Pawel Pogorzelski, and blessed with a turn of frailty and subtlety by Pugh as she negotiates extreme trauma, Midsommar is more about the horrors of human behaviours than the appearance of the supernatural and what it can entail.

There are lashings of humour throughout, but as the crescendo of the creepy builds, there's more a sense of uncertainty rippling through this Wicker Man / League of Gentlemen hybrid folk horror and bucolic beastliness.

The horror comes in the consequences, and the reality of what's next - and while the conclusion may infuriate some and feel derivative to others, what Aster's done is essentially cycle back to the beginning's themes.

Midsommar is less a dream, but even less a nightmare - it's a waking breathing feeling of insomnia, and it's stiflingly good because of it.

The Gentlemen: Film Review

The Gentlemen: Film Review

Cast: Hugh Grant, Charlie Hunnam, Matthew McConaughey, Michelle Dockery, Henry Golding, Colin Farrell, Jeremy Strong

Director: Guy Ritchie

Guy Ritchie returns to familiar territory in The Gentlemen, a crime caper that dials up the Cockney tomfoolery and violence, but which pales in comparison to Ritchie's greatest Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.

In this latest, centring around drug kingpin Mickey Pearson (an unctuous McConaughey) and his marijuana business, Ritchie spins a tale via unreliable narrator and potential blackmailer Fletcher (Grant, in a pastiche of a camp Michael Caine and tabloid editor) who tries his hand to get cash to keep Pearson's secrets.

But when Pearson wants to get rid of the dodgy dealings to spend more time with his wife Ros (Dockery, massively underused as a moll or any kind of character), it attracts the interest of the Chinese triads and their wannabe head Dry Eye (played by Crazy Rich Asians' Henry Golding)....

The Gentlemen is a film which puts the meta into the gangster genre. Or at least tries to.

Grant's slimy Fletcher seems like an extension of Ritchie himself, weaving a web of potential lies and deceit (and even pitching a film to Miramax at the end with a Man from U.N.C.L.E poster in the background), and winking at gangster movie conventions while riffing (less than subtly) on how films like The Conversation are rubbish, and digital films aren't as good as actual film. It's all a bit too much in some ways, and detracts from Ritchie's original simplicity of plotting - though there's a strong case to be said for Fletcher being Ritchie and Pearson's No 2 (Hunnam) being the audience if you want to dig deeper.

Elsewhere, it's the usual mix of trickery and an extremely liberal use of foul language as the cast go warts and all into the proceedings, into the codes of elder gangsters versus younger rivals and the shaggy dog progress of the story.

In truth, Grant's Fletcher is the best thing about The Gentlemen, a louche snake of a man whose self-preservation is second only to his own debauchery and desires - and Grant has a ball playing him, with lines such as "I can feel myself engorging" being delivered with such relish - along with Paddington 2 and this, Grant delivers a strong case for a villainous after career.

The rest of the cast are fine - Hunnam is overlooked though he's the head of the firm in reality, a fixer who's apparently in out of his depth, and McConaughey just oozes charm as the wastrel boss.

But less successful are Dockery, who's sidelined with nothing more than a moll (and a questionable near-rape scene) and Golding, whose one note performance is script related rather than actor delivered.

A long debate over how to racially refer to someone also teeters on extremely unpalatable as well - leaving parts of The Gentlemen feeling grubby and unwarranted.

Ultimately, The Gentlemen has a criminal amount of slippery class, but its stylised edges pale when held upto to Ritchie's best. Sure, he's having a ball, and bringing the audience with him, but this old dog doesn't have any massively new tricks to showcase, merely a criminal caper the likes of which we've mainly seen before.

Ad Astra: Blu Ray Review

Ad Astra: Blu Ray Review

More a Freudian rumination on masculinity that's set in space, James Gray's Ad Astra takes on the vast reaches of the great beyond and delivers a stunning piece of world-building as ever there's been on a universal scale.

A restrained and almost muted Pitt is Roy McBride, the son of an accomplished astronaut Cliff McBride (Lee Jones). Constantly living in his shadow, Roy is sent to find the missing McBride senior who's presumed lost in space somewhere near Neptune, after a series of electrical surges threatens to wipe life from the solar system.

But there's ambiguity over whether McBride senior is to blame for the surges or is trying to stop them...All of which puts the father and son on a collision course both have clearly been trying to avoid their entire lives.

Gray and Pitt conjure up a world in the near future that's as believable as anything seen in the likes of Gravity and 2001: A Space Odyssey.

With vertiginous shots early on giving way to more intimate and internal moments, Gray's film ponders on what it's like to be man, how to deal with an estranged father and how to connect to others. (There's a delicious irony the space mission is about finding life outside of Earth when it's more ground-bound matters that anchor the movie.)

Pitt's muted throughout, prone to his inner monologue rather than espousing reams of dialogue; and when the break comes somewhere in the film, Pitt delivers an emotional range that's as devastating to his character as it needs to be to the audience.

Gray's space world is fascinating - and while there are moments of action set on the moon and thanks to the unease of an unexpected mayday call, the slow calculated script and delivery thereof lead to plenty of payoffs.

It's not perfect though - while the mundanities of commercial space travel are recreated with ease (fast food companies and their neon signs sit along the likes of Virgin on the Moon), some of the script fails its women. Tyler gets a thankless role as a faceless wife (though this is perhaps the point given how Pitt's character can't connect with others in his life) and Ruth Negga shines all too briefly as the conspiracy elements of the mystery are ratcheted up on Mars.

The film delivers much subtlety on male relationships, but it's also content to dispatch some rote lines such as the double-edged "We are all we've got" to satiate those less inclined to the more thoughtful leanings of what's on screen.

Ultimately, Ad Astra works best in its first two thirds - its delivery of some answers and some leaps of logic in the latter stages cause the foundations to flounder.

However, in terms of a rumination on the folly of man, it's second to none - and one of the most arrestingly visual, thoughtful and immersive well-executed experiences that 2019 has had to offer. 

Rambo: Last Blood: DVD Review

Rambo: Last Blood: DVD Review

Appallingly xenophobic and grubby, Rambo: Last Blood is an action film that doesn't need - or deserve - to exist.

Stallone lumbers on as John Rambo, 10 years after he was last seen, a Vietnam vet who doesn't want to kill and who now lives on a horse ranch in Arizona. Looking after his daughter's daughter Gabriella, Rambo is thrust into a quest for revenge when Gabriella goes to Mexico, is kidnapped by a cartel and traded as a sex slave.

And all when she's about to leave for a bright prosperous future in college...

Needless to say revenge follows.

Rambo: Last Blood paints a dangerous picture of Mexico in these current climes.

It villainises everyone who's seen south of the border thanks to one note characterisation and stereotyping to the max. Everyone is a horrendous caricature, aimed at fuelling the fire that is the tension between America and Mexico that has been exacerbated by the current US President Donald Trump. Rapists, criminals, corrupt police - they're all here for the potential political rallies, and there's even a scene of the wire wall between the two countries being ridden rough shod over.

The majority of the problem of Rambo: Last Blood is the lack of characterisation around Rambo - the film exists solely to deal out various forms of despatching the bad guys in the final act. And while the tunnel-set finale works reasonably brutally and well, there's little to no joy seeing the bad guys go down as they are so one-note and exist only to be killed off.

Stallone exudes something earlier on as a calm and peaceful Rambo, who is rocked by PTSD and haunted by those he couldn't save. But as the odds stack up, thanks to a rote sense of direction Adrian Grunberg brings to the table, there's little sense of Stallone's Rambo overcoming the odds, more that it will happen and that's it. Even the two women who star in the film (Vega and Montreal) are given little to do except be victims - neither get chance to exact their revenge; only the men can do it.

Lacking hardly any redeeming features, Rambo: Last Blood is a film nobody wanted to see for this four decade old hero. A final montage of cuts from Rambo films from the decades prior only serves to show what a mess the film has made of the legacy and why some things should be left alone. 

Sorry We Missed You: Film Review

Sorry We Missed You: Film Review

Ken Loach's latest piece of socially shocking miserabilism in the UK is a savage indictment of how the everyday family is being beaten down by those abusing the system.

And yet, in among the blood-boiling moments of Sorry We Missed You, Loach displays elements of everyday love and compassion along with humour that helps you along the 100 minutes of what plays out.

Kris Hitchen plays Rikki, the head of a family who is scrabbling day to day to make ends meet. Taking the chance to become a franchisee of a delivery company, Rikki finds himself part of a contract that serves the masters better than it does the servants.

Coupled with the fact his wife Abby (Debbie Honeywood) is working 14 hours a day as a carer, the pair is left hardly any time for their two children.

Stretched as thinly as it will go, something is likely to snap in Rikki and Abby's lives...

Clothed in savage condemnation of the zero hours' slavery, Loach's film promotes a growing sense of depression, as well as a sense of latent activism in the audience.

But it's the realism here, and the intimate relatability that gives Loach his power in this film - a growing sense of desperation from both Hitchen and Honeywood creates an aching, gnawing sense of disillusionment as events threaten to swallow them up.

There's nothing here that's played for easy drama, merely a growing sense of a maelstrom about to encompass the everyday family. And because of that it's even more horrifying to behold.

There's an anger in Sorry We Missed You, but Loach is restrained enough a director to realise that simply playing out events will get the required results in the audience. It's horrifically affective and affecting - ultimately, Sorry We Missed You is one social drama not ignore - both on screen and off it.