2011, and how film went back to the future.

Even in Dalston,

these are not acceptable

As happens every year, the December of 2010 boldly delivered it's prophecies of how the film world would take shape in the following twelve months. In amongst the usual press guff concerning Next Big Things and the continued domination of the franchise (2011 has seen more sequels than ever before), one prediction unexpectedly fell well short of it's heralded mark. The rise and imminent domination of 3D.



I get it, you're blue.



When i was enduring Avatar's bloated narrative a couple of years ago, I was seemingly safe in the knowledge of at least one thing, that the hideously retro 3D glasses I was wearing were a sign of things to come, that this magnificence was the FUTURE, and that paying an extra fiver at the flicks should be viewed as a privilege. A non 2D privilege.

Well, I'm happy to report that 2011 has proved that 3D, whilst evidently and correctly, is here to stay, it hasn't actually taken over the world, and, if anything, this year has seen a backlash, a bizarrely retrospective swipe at the future delivered by the very film-makers who are supposed to take us there. Because, whilst 2011 featured the usual barrage of effects laden fare, the theme of the year has been one that screams not of futuristic desolation, but 1970's claustrophobia and paranoia.

Still can't believe your sister's
 the rough one from EastEnders



Take a couple of the year's most high profile and successful films for starters. Tomas Alfredson's Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is an obvious signpost, but none the less important for it. A story and a style that evoked great 70's thrillers like The Parallax View, with a visual panache that relied as much on stillness as movement, a rare example of a film that expected much of it's audience, and pandered to none.
If TTSS was the critic's darling, the Steven Soderbergh's Contagion was as close to B-movie blockbuster as Tinseltown allows. A star studded cast and multi million dollar budget were evidently in place, but this was a picture that shared it's DNA with the likes of The Andromeda Strain and early 70's dread, however hard it's contemporary licks suggest otherwise.

That hadn't bargained for the
 student exchange trip to Tottenham

To see film-makers like Alfredson and Soderbergh spin classic stories into pieces so relevant was a joy to behold, but this year's trend of nostalgia is probably best highlighted by the very wunderkind widely thought of as the next pioneer of his craft. JJ Abrams' Super 8 clearly borrows (and repays) a generous pinch of Spielbergian magic dust, but emerges as a joy, and proves that you can occasionally please all of the people, all of the time. Albeit with an 80's heritage and stamp, the conspiracy theories and paranoia screamed of the 70's and was a heartening reminder that when effects compliment a story rather than dominate it, they become all the more impressive.

This isn't to say that 2011 hasn't had its share of retrospective shoddiness. The much vaunted X-Men: First Class suffered in its pre-dated setting and felt un-necessary, whereas seeing the excellent Joel Edgerton pop up in a mildly redundant prequel of John Carpenter's masterful The Thing was a mis-step all round. There was also the brilliantly nuanced (sic) Arthur remake starring Russell Brand, which was roughly as good as every other Russell Brand film.

Not Human. Nice coat though.

But, in spite of these failings, 2011 has done a bloody good job of getting paranoia and an overbearing society back into the mutliplex. Perhaps it's the world around us that has laid the foundations for the public mistrust gracing the silver screen, the feeling we are being watched and lied to, and the recurring theme of a world in trouble. But whatever it is, it's welcome. Jesus, 2011 even achieved the almost unachievable, by adding a watchable, clever, addition to the Planet of The Apes cannon, a feat that proved beyond Johnny Depp's de facto other half, Tim Burton.

Rehearsals went,
in all honesty, too far.

Whilst it might be labouring a point to suggest that 2011 has been a generally outstanding year, it's true that certain examples point to a variety and ambition that can only lead to high hopes for 2012. Brit film had another major fillip, as Ben Wheatley's Kill List succeeded where Nicolas Cage's remake failed, by out Wicker Man-ing The Wicker Man, in another tale that played on conspiracy and paranoia. But whilst films such as this will remain on the very outskirts of the mainstream, it was the willingness of the big flicks to stick to genre that was refreshing.

Early promotional efforts were poor.

Jon Favreau's Cowboys & Aliens was, bar the title, not so much of a mish-mash, but a straightforward, classic tale that owes more to the Western than it does to the technology powered millions on the screen. Likewise, the recent, powerful The Ides of March is a stripped back piece of cinema, relying on good old-fashioned story and performance, a film that could have as easily been made 40 years ago, and relying on qualities that won't ever appear dated.

With only a matter of days left before the Hollywood juggernaut steams into 2012, the final few weeks have been punctuated by the appearance and anticipation of films the year should be remembered for. The cloying, foreboding (and, admittedly unseen by me) air hanging over Take Shelter have wowed critic and moviegoer alike, but it's Michel Hanavicius' The Artist that perhaps best showcases 2011 as the year that time forgot.

A black and white offering concerning 1920's cinema? Tough sell. Why not just go the whole way and make it virtually silent?! Oh, you did. And what rose from these unlikeliest of beginnings was the film many now regard as the best of the year, primed for a (quiet) assault on next year's Oscars.
2011 may not have been cinema's finest year, but it was certainly one of it's most unexpected. And I didn't don those stupid glasses once.

Family Misfortunes



Too hot to be related o me



Everyone's had the 'Who Would Play You In A Film Of Your Life?' chat at some point, if only for a few seconds. And, once you get past the fact that you look nothing like Pitt or Kunis, or any other photogenic human, the answers can be pretty revealing. Not because it shows who we like or respect, but because it shows, to a degree, how we view ourselves. But what if we took that one stage further? If there's a film of my life (piss off, there might be) then I wouldn't be (completely) alone, who plays the rest of the clan? Is it important to know? No. Have I run of out ideas for threads? Possibly.



And that's why you're not my dad



First up, mother. My first thoughts were along the lines of Pfeiffer, but then it would get all Oedipal and cease being tasteful. Ditto Marisa Tomei, maybe just old enough, but I'm not sure I want friends saying my mum is hot, even if it's fictional.

At the other end of the spectrum, the Helen Mirren factor screams at me, but she's possibly a wee bit old. But I need that air of gravitas, someone who delivers authority and coolness simultaneously. It comes down to two. Annett Bening v Meryl Streep, with the former winning out on the basis that my mates wouldn't want to nail her.



The father figure, then. Hmmm, I'd like Alec Baldwin, but he's insane and more of a junkie uncle. Dustin Hoffman is cool, but maybe too feminine and eccentric to gain my full imaginary boyhood respect. I did consider Gene Hackman, but he seems slimy and I'd always be worried he'd crack on to my auntie (Joan Cusack), so he's out. A close second is Tom Selleck, but the hirsuteness of the man borderline terrifies me, so I'm just left with Richard Jenkins, which is nice. Plus I think he'll get on with mum.

Willow. Like the tree.

He's my brother now

Next up: Brother. Important one this, I can't afford to be much cooler than me or my narrative will suffer, so options become sharply limited. Not too good looking, nor one step away from a dark cave. So the honour (yes, it's an honour) goes to Casey Affleck as my lucky brother, combining complete anonymity and socipathic tendencies like it's not even a 'thing'.

Of course, he and we need a sister. A little sister. And no-one likes their little sister. So I'm gonna make it Willow Smith, just to mess with expectation. Plus, it shows we are progressive. To finish off the ensemble, I need to enlist a pair of grandparents, the kind of old folk who will, at once, supply you with booze and petty cash whilst retaining their own teeth and bowel movements.



By cuddles, I mean sex.



Step forward.......Imelda Staunton, who mainly makes the family on the back of her Vera Drake gig.Not particularly uplifting I know, but I have a feeling my cousin (Dakota Fanning) might need her for that very reason sooner or later.

Last, and pretty much least, I need a grandfather. An off the rails, bad influence, worse role model grandfather. Michael Caine came close but is too sane, Richard Jenkins would be good but fuck, he's my dad. So it's left to Donald Sutherland, on the basis that he has facial hair on tap and Keifer may visit every other weekend.

I think my family is less a montage of how I view myself and more of a list of people I could think of. But it would be still be a good family Christmas, especially if Auntie Monica Bellucci turns up for 'cuddles'.



2011: Thank you

“Life moves pretty fast.  If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it”.

Ignore the hair, he speak the troot'

It’s not often a right minded adult would heed the advice of a 15 year old truant, but Ferris Bueller didn’t get many sentiments wrong, and this is no different. It’s easy to become disillusioned by a band, a director, a film franchise, but now and again something happens that reaffirms why you love it in the first place.

2011 has had more than it’s share of these moments, whether it be Ben Wheatley confounding all expectation with his ‘Kill List’, 80’s sensibilities returning in J.J.Abrams’ ‘Super 8’ (surely Bueller would approve), or Duncan Jones emerging as the next big thing with *shock horror* an actually clever action sci-fi flick (Source Code).  Bearing in mind it’s only late September, it’s already turning into a vintage year on both sides of the pond.

Subtlety? I fuck subtlety!

What makes this as surprising as it is welcome,  is it’s sheer unexpectedness. This is a year, on the surface, dominated by the immense power of the machine, the Hollywood that shelves the original in favour of filling it’s trolley with the remake/franchise/sequel, or sometimes all three at once (hello ‘Fast 5’). In addition, there’s been no backlash to inspire such a year, no mini cinematic revolution, and no discernable indie movement responsible for any visible change of direction.

At first glance it’s a year populated by the ‘Thors’, ‘Hangover II’s, and the ‘Harry Potter’s of the world. But underneath this blanket of behemoths lies something for more interesting.  Exhibit A: ‘Limitless’: A seemingly standard case of ‘man of the moment’ (Bradley Cooper) starring with ‘older man with waning gravitas’ (Robert De Niro) for ‘super hero tale grounded in reality’ (miracle pill). First thoughts? Oh fuck. The reality was different. A clever, lean thriller which slightly betrays the marketing campaign that preceded it.

Don Cheadle. Yep................

Then there’s the kind of film impacting on 2011 that’s so refreshing. I haven’t even seen ‘Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy’ as yet. But a non-showy, talky, mysterious, low action character piece (FROM ENGLAND!) becoming the most talked about and hyped movie of the year? Next we’ll be talking about Don Cheadle in a 5 star Brit flick comedy set in Ireland. Oh,  wait!!!!!! Of course, we’ll always be peppered with the usual  Transformers  sequel, the inevitable ‘final’ Final Destination, and another 2+ hours of life waste from the Pirates of The Caribbean clan.

The Richard Keys impression went down a storm

But in a year so laden with treasures, this makes the dross somehow more palatable, even perversely more enjoyable, as we know it’s a distracting aperitif as opposed to an indigestible main course. ‘Troll Hunter’, ‘Warrior’, ‘Hugo Cabret’, ‘Drive’, ‘A Separation’. And these are pictures I haven’t even seen yet.  And how ‘nice’ (for want of a better word) is it for this list to be so varied? So different and distinctive?

So often contemporary movies can leave you with déjà vu, the easy option of accurately classifying ‘this’ film as a cross between ‘that’ and ‘the other’. But 2011 has thrown up ‘Kill List’ (Wicker Man comparisons are obvious but not entirely correct), and promises B-Movie premise for A-List cast of the year in Soderbergh’s ‘Contagion’, which could turn out to be, well, who knows?

The Rum Diary: Might be good. Will definitely be odd.

Johnny Depp will shortly be back into his trippy ‘Fear & Loathing....’ slippers for ‘The Rum Diary’, a Bruce Robinson directed adaptation of a Hunter S. Thompson novel. Yes please. While if that doesn’t tickle your fancy, there's always Fincher’s reworking of 'The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo’, which has the potential to be so brilliant that it makes my brain bleed. 

Oscar Baiting. A Necessary Evil

Michael Bay: Fuck yeah

Hyperbole, like the 5000 metre pacemaker who fades away once fatigue, reality and all it's disappointments kick in, follows all major films around. Michael Bay's pictures always open amidst a torrent of generally negative opinion, yet rack up box office numbers akin to a jammed calculator. Conversely, the next Mike Leigh movie will probably start life as a critical darling before taking just enough at the box office to fund the expenses of the tea boy.



Curvy girls. Indeed.



This hype is all part of the ride, it leads us to films we may not always be inclined to go and watch, and for this I'm eternally grateful. And it takes an eternal optimist (or deluded fool) not to take all pieces of praise and criticsm and treat them both with a healthy dose of scepticism.

But around this time of year, the media frenzy briefly (very briefly) departs from highlighting the 'Thrills' (Marie Claire), 'Rip Roaring Comedy' (Cosmopolitan) and 'Pant Browning Action' (The Sun) of summer blockbuster tosh to concentrate on renting our minds as well as our wallets. They target the Oscars.

I was looking forward, and still am, to seeing Gary Oldman deliver the 'performance of a lifetime' in Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy', I really am.



But why the fuck is Heat magazine telling me I need to see it because it's a 'rip-roaring tension ride'? Last time I checked, Heat photgraphed Alexa Chung jogging on Hampstead Heath and reported Ashley Cole pining for Cheryl (not Baker). Well, fuck off Heat. Stick to what you know. I don't go telling Steven Hawking that he needs to upgrade his telescope.

German film. About the Stasi. Not a comedy.

Anyway, I digress. Is this Oscar-baiting press coverage really healthy, or even necessary? Well, maybe. Films such as 'Winters Bone' and 'The Lives Of Others' are just 2 examples of films I wouldn't have been aware of had they not been backed to the hilt by studios concerned, hopefully, as much with their artistic merit as their income.



But it can seem that the film industry is obnoxiously out of step with some of it's peers. People probably do get excited by the Brits/Grammy's, but probably not 4 months before they occur. Equally, I'm sure Premier League footballers would all love to win a 'player of the year' nod, but I doubt it takes up a quarter of the season campaigning, and the results tend to be forgotten as quickly as an episode of Hollyoaks.

Of course, we all love getting accolades from our counterparts, those who do the same job as us and assume we put the same amount of effort in as they do. It's human nature to wallow in self-congratulation at times. But for a quarter of the year I would seem slightly foolish lobbying the board members of my company to recognise the outstanding report I handed in eight months earlier.

If you don't have one, you're shit.

But for some reason, although every soundbite pre-ceremony would beg to differ, it matters. No one has ever accepted the Best Actor Oscar with a shrug of the shoulders and a "aw sweet, I'm well happy at that". And why should that be the case? I, for one, love scoping out the Oscar nominees across numerous categories, knowing that with them brings the chance to cast my eye over a movie that may otherwise have slipped by un-noticed. Who cares if they're picking up an award for a film they actually finished working on eighteen months ago? It's all part of the show, a show that, at it's best, can awaken even the hardiest of hearts from it's slumber.



The Weinsteins had finally spotted the hidden camera



Of course it's contrived, and of course the more money Miramax shove behind their campaign for the next piece of Paltrow fluff, the more chance it has of landing on the voting laps of the academy. But this would be missing the point. Hollywood can at times seem a bloated, egotistical and vapid machine that delivers only one the most basic levels of art. But at Oscar time, at the time the money machine can be at it's most crass, is also the time that we're reminded how good it can feel to be served up something we didn't ask for, but in hindsight couldn't do without.

Riots. Cinema. Etc.

Whilst taking a bit of a risk, I’m going to attempt to write about something serious this time. Most risky of all, here follows an attempt to boil down a generation old debate into a few hundred words and a couple of Googled jpegs. So...........whilst discussing the recent riots in the capital this morning, and the media influence at the heart of it, I heard the following:

“Kids want I-Pods these days coz’ they’re told they need them, and music and films just back up this view without addressing consequence”.

Anarchy, in a nifty hat.

My first reaction was along the lines of “wait a minute you fucking idiot....” but then I thought about it for a minute (a few seconds). What if it’s too easy to rule out how much sway film (for the purpose of this rambling) can have? What if the notion of personal responsibility is compromised and undermined by a non-stop barrage of role models and characters doing exactly what they shouldn’t?

I’ve heard various stories over the years of the impact 1971’s ‘A Clockwork Orange’ had at the time, a film which mesmerised and terrified in equal measure and, as is usually the case, was really only appreciated when history got a hold of it. Some of the themes of Kubrick’s picture remain highly relevant, perhaps uncomfortably so. The public fear of being victims of apparently random crime, the threat of violence for the sake of violence.  These are crimes which prey on the mind of many a citizen 40 years later. The extraordinary becoming horrifically ordinary.

Ron Weasley

Irresponsible film-making?

But I wasn’t around to gauge that in ’71, so the first real recollection of film being partly blamed for society’s woes  for me came in 1993, with the case of murdered toddler Jamie Bulger.  The perpertrators of the crime were themselves children, and whatever other, more important details of the case, one thing sticks in my mind. The constant reference to the film ‘Child’s Play’, horror films and video nasties which had ‘a’ part to play in the horrible event.

The issue of censorship once again loomed large. Why were children allowed to watch such films? Where were the parents? But most of all, why were these films allowed to be made/watched/thought of at all? In reality, there is no perfect answer.

Don't you wanna be him

But there are a few truths.  Firstly, no film-maker is dumb enough (I hope) to ever enter a project with the intention to incite anything other than debate or restrained argument.  Did the writer/director of ‘Child’s Play’ (i forget/can’t be bothered to find his/her/it’s  name) intend to provoke violence or events mirroring their own work? Of course not.

But here’s the real debate. I’ve seen countless films such as ‘Goodfellas’, ‘Kidulthood’, ‘Romper Stomper’,  ‘City of God’, ‘Scarface’ and a thousand more which show, at times in graphic detail, the dire personal consequences that such violence, such materialism, such lack of respect for all people and all things, can lead to.

Keeping us safe and guarding  us from...stuff.

Then there’s the more subtle, satirical slant of movies such as ‘Taxi Driver’ and ‘Bowling for Columbine’, citing disaffected youth as a by-product of circumstance and society. But here’s the thing. Most, and I use that word loosely, of the thugs, and I use that word strongly, don’t understand the subtext. Or maybe more worryingly, they don’t care.

The most overt films, which graphically show the dire consequence of materialism and ‘take take’ of society, don’t resonate. Tony Montana gets his comeuppance. So what? They remember the drugs, the one liners, the beds draped with dollar bills, the champagne,  the chainsaw, the whole excess of it all. Do they care that De Palma balanced this with tragedy and disaster? Do they bollocks. 

Disaffected youth.

In more recent times, and probably more applicable to what we’ve recently seen on the streets of London, are films like Noel Clarke’s ‘Adulthood’. So Clarke makes sure his protagonist doesn’t end up a hero, doesn’t get the girl, doesn’t have, well, anything. Does it matter? Nope. It’s the faux gangster lifestyle that's initially dressed up as attractive, the reliance on only things that can be bought, stolen, or fought for, including people.  Here, and for all films lost on those who can’t even see the lines let alone read between them, moralising and attempting to show balance is redundant.

If we live in a world the ‘disaffected’ (in place of a few harsher labels) simply take without conscience, why should we be surprised if they simultaneously feed on a films' glamour and extremity without a care for the underlying truths? And these are just the obvious examples, the cases where a character so brazenly pays a price for a misspent lifesyle.

If the most blatant messages are missed, then what hope do the nuanced, intricately woven meanings and subtexts making their way into the psyche of an individual not capable of interpreting them correctly? None.  Absolutely none.

French unrest. In black & white. Must be serious.

But who does a film maker create for? The biggest audience?  The lowest common denominator? Themselves? At times, maybe all three. I heard it on a number of occasions that ‘Child’s Play’ was the ‘trigger’ which prompted Bulger’s killers to act. Perhaps this is true. But if they hadn’t have watched it, let’s not pretend they wouldn’t have found a replacement trigger pretty fast.

Asking whether advertising, TV, music, education, etc is responsible for recent events is a question for all, and one to which their probably won’t be any definitive answers, or perhaps even answers at all. But for film, as with any art, the answer is simple. No matter what subtexts or hidden meaning a movie conceals, any positive notions are in the eyes and ears of the beholder.  And when a movie purports to be responsible in it’s entirety, there will always be those ignorant enough to view extremes as a call to action.

Eastern Promise

Intense, brutal, menacing

A couple of years ago, it emerged that Will Smith (at the time an actor whose star was shining a little brighter than it is today) had signed on to star in a mystery thriller under the guidance of Hollywood's only no-risk, dollar printer himself, Steven Spielberg. It promised to be a taut, dramatic affair, tracing one man's journey from isolated imprisonment to a horrific denouement where the truth would emerge to be the most brutal punishment of all.

The Fresh Prince

This, by anyone's standards, was as a close as you get to a cinematic sure thing. So why was there a lack of excitement? Why, indeed was there an online petition to stop this film from going ahead at all? Because this was to be a re-make of Park Chan-Wook's brutally brilliant 'Oldboy'. I was amongst those who intially spouted with rage and railed against this American re-imagining/heating/gurgitating of a modern classic, simply to pander to those who couldn't be arsed to watch something with subtitles and without anyone regularly featured in the 'Spotted' pages of 'Heat'.

Spotted! Park Chan-Wook at Nando's Wood Green

Eventually, this project died a death, although how much this had to with fan power is unclear to me. So the recent news that the American 'Oldboy' is back on, perhaps under the title 'Olboiiii' to appeal to contemporary tastes. This time, Spike Lee will direct, with Josh Brolin in as protagonist. I want to hate the concept, and sometimes I wish Lee would shove his 'joints' into his own retinas (retini?)

But I don't. In fact, I'm looking forward to it. Of course, it's always going to be seen as a kind of sacrilege to remake a picture which, despite only being released 8 years ago, has almost out-stripped it's 'cult' beginnings to land somewhere close to the outers of the mainstream.

Of course, this doesn't mean the Lee/Brolin version will be any good. In all probability, it won't get close to the original, while the always the chance it will be as entertaining as cress. But there is hope..........

"She's behind you"!!! With massive fuck-off teeth

By all accounts, Matt Reeves' recent 'Let Me In' had it enough of it's own beats to enjoy whilst sticking closely to the core ingredients that made 'Let The Right One In' such a twisted joy, where it could have easily, and predictably, fallen flat on it's face.

This example also highlights how Hollywood is showing signs of moving away from simply remaking Asian horror, a staple of the early parts of this decade. Of course, there will always be a conveyor belt of slippery turds to endure. Exhibit A: Keifer Sutherland's 'Mirrors', a horror film so bad you would take 7 years bad luck over having to watch it. Then there's junk such as 'The Eye' and 'One Missed Call', examples of a lazy Hollywood devoid of imagination or pupose, essentially just replacing subtitles with Sarah Michelle-Gellar or someone who looks/screams like her.

But there's also the good stuff, some of it we don't even realise we almost missed. 'The Departed' may not be Scorcese's best, but it's still better than good, and wouldn't be here had the film makers not adapted Hong Kong's 'Infernal Affairs' from a decade or so ago.

'The Ring' was the first of the raft of Asian horror stream to occupy the Western pschye, and whilst it doesn't have the tension of the original, it's certainly not a bad film. In the same vein, 'The Grudge' remake retains most of the scares of the original, and is perhaps even on a par with it's predecessor. By the same, Norway's 1997 thriller 'Insomnia' didn't make much of a splash, until it was re-made with Pacino in 2002 and gave Christopher Nolan a platform to show he can do cat-and-mouse as well as anyone.



"I'm just not sure the colour is quite........me"



But perhaps the most interesting by-product of the remake trend is it's ironic capability to empower the viewer, to show them something they wouldn't otherwise seek out, or even be privy to. Let's be honest, if you're a subtitle-averse film viewer, no amount of film praise is ever really going to make you scout out a copy of 'Yojimbo'.



But if Hollywood can retain the essence of the original, without resorting to duplication, then the benefits are 2-fold. It can provoke the viewer into seeking out the original, even if it's for as trivial a reason as comparison, which certainly cona't hurt other markets. Secondly, it gives the audience something they wouldn't otherwise get, and it's surely better to see second best than nothing at all.

So whilst remakes will usually be inferior, and invariably lighter fare, they do have the capacity to surprise, and indeed push an original to a far bigger audience that it could have hoped for. Still though........Spike Lee?!

Great Expectations

ill.

When the spectacle and brou ha ha (it's a word) surrounding this summer's blockbusters subsides in a few weeks time, we'll be left with something of a void in terms of brash, bold action to steer us out of summer and into autumn. Good.

Because this is the time where some really interesting films can emerge, lying as they do between the visual orgy of summer and the 'For Your Consideration'  baiting worthiness that has to be submitted prior to each year's end.  

So imagine how my contempt for most things very briefly almost made way for a period of joyous apathy when I heard about this: new Steven Soderbergh film (good start), starring Matt Damon (cool), Larry Fishburne, Kate Winslet, Marion Cotillard (the best thing to come out of France since Dogtanian and Babybel), with the considerable back up talents of Gwyneth Paltrow and Jude Law. Oh...............

Also ill.

But, doubts aside, only the hardest of hearts could deem this line up unimpressive, each of them leads in their own right. So, what kind of vehicle do they get? My money was on something tricksy yet fun, a kind of Ocean's Eleven crossed with a bit of derring-do and a flash of action/Cotillard's left boob.

Nope. Not even close. On October 21, we get 'Contagion'. A film about, and I quote:

       " the threat posed by a deadly disease and an international team of doctors contracted by the CDC to deal with the outbreak" (IMDB).



Please don't be like this



Er. What? Damon, Soderbergh, hundreds of millions of dollars, and we get a film about glorified FUCKING MAN FLU???!!!! Never let your synopsis contain the words "international team of doctors". It isn't sexy, in fact it conjures up images of a big screen version of 'Casualty', which no one needs in their life.

I expected spies! Sex! Action! Smarts!

NOT WHOOPING COUGH SODERBERGH! NOT FUCKING WHOOPING COUGH!



Tenuously linked jpeg



Of course, I speak out of turn. The track record of all the above is almost beyond reproach. With credits between them of the calibre of films such as 'Public Enemies' and the entire 'Bourne' series, they make up a fair share of my film going highlights over recent times. But it's just the.............the expectation. It's very hard to get worked up over pretty people getting ill.

Lest we forget, Soderbergh polarises opinion at the best of times (Full Frontal/Solaris), so this shouldn't come as a surprise as he's never been one to conform to audience expectation. So maybe my initial scepticism is a good thing. A sign of imminent satisfaction. After all, hype and fanfare inevitably only bring disappointment, so this stealthy approach may well be a good thing, a way of managing expectations only to stun us with cinematic gold at a later date.

In fact, yes, I see what you're doing Mr Soderbergh. You've compiled the plots of every film ever shown on Channel 5 in a deliberate attempt to trick us into cynicism and bubbling anger. Genius.

But I see you for what you are Soderbergh, and I predict that come October 21, what will be unleashed is a tornado of human drama, a scathing metaphor for society cloaked in a suffocatingly tense picture laden with action and emotion.

 Masterful.

 But if not, please at least show a bit of boob.

Small Screen Big Screen Cardboard Box

Let's start with  a fact:

* 100% of big screen TV adaptations are shit. Alright, I'm rounding up the number, but if you consider it for a minute, probably not by much. This week sees the (not very) much anticipated cinema release of Channel 4's hit comedy 'The Inbetweeners'. Not seen it much, but good show. Obviously had a massive following in the UK, along with the kind of critical endorsement that Danny Dyer would 'give his nuts for'. It's had 3 series' to date (and may well return one day), and didn't seem to have reached saturation point just yet. In fact when you consider 'Two Pints And A Packet Of Crisps' was re-commissoned 8 times (E.I.G.H.T/ VIII) then 'The Inbetweeners' seemed positively in it's infancy.



Bad film



So with all the evident goodwill and zeitgeist behind it, why not make a film of it?! Wouldn't that be a laugh!!! Well, probably not. History says as much. Yes, there's a been a few examples of films striking out successfully from their TV roots (South Park being one), but consider the considerable evidence against: 'The X-Files', '24', 'Miami Vice' (yes, it's bad), 'Charlie's Angels', 'The Dukes of Hazzard', 'Starsky & Hutch' and, most importantly of all, 'Kevin & Perry Go Large'.

Kevin and Perry Go Home.
Please.

The latter was of course based on an overblown sketch, a couple of teenagers rebelling, getting into scrapes, then trying to get laid on a generic Euroisland. It bombed. Deservedly. There was barely enough plot in the TV version to fill the small screen. Sound familiar?

British comedy struggles to unearth real gems, and it's only every now and again that a 'Royle Family' or 'The Office' comes along and laughs a nation into bed. These were 2 comedies that shunned the bright lights of the multiplex, and rightly so. The result? Legacy intact.

In it's defence, 'The Inbetweeners' may turn out to be that rare exception to the rule, but the timing smacks of financial greed and audience manipulation. British film fundng is again at a low ebb, and striking whilst the iron is hot means the captive audience will make this a relative success, but it's far more likely that the producers will take their money back ten fold whilst delivering a contrived package and damage a show that could have been left to carry on doing what it did best, being good.



Definitely not a film awards

An hour long epsiode featuring the japes and antics of teens abroad would be pushing it, 100 minutes seems a fragrant and opportunistic cash in.

Of course, if the venture does end in tears, slipping back in to the comfortable slippers of a weekly repeat slot on Channel 4 won't mean the show suddenly dying a death. But it may leave a critical wound which could be tough to recover from. The great shows have always tended to leave the audience wanting more. By cashing in so transparently, 'The Inbetweeners' is in danger of leaving them, full stop.

Too Many Crooks....



No, not this one.



It's now, give or take, about 270 days until the release of what will undoubtedly be, bar a very quick turnaround on Basic Instinct 3, the most anticipated flick of 2012, The Avengers.

That's 270 days for the hype machine to go even further into overdrive, to whip our collective cinematic psyche into a deeper frenzy, and 270 days for the drip feed of teasers, trailers, adverts, and press junkets to lead us dribbling towards to the box office next May.

Will it work? Of course. It takes a behemoth of some magnitude to out hype the third and final outing of Christopher Nolan's thus far impeccable Batman series.



Hawkeye: "Legolas is gay"



Should we be worried? Probably. If big screen history teaches us anything, it's that big, ensemble action pictures with more characters than the Bible generally flatter to deceive. More than most, I want Joss Whedon to disprove this theory and provide the exception to the rule. But it will take something special, something that even the likes of Sam Raimi and Peter Jackson couldn't muster, to triumph come next summer.

The odds are stacked against Whedon, however. So far, confirmed characters include Thor, Captain America, Iron Man, Bambi, Black Widow and Nick Fury. God is rumoured to be in negotiations to play himself. With blockbusters these days rarely running over 2 and a half hours, this will leave approximately 19 seconds of exposure for each of Marvel's biggest players to stamp their mark and then disappear stage left before the screen explodes. And all this, by the way, will occur after we have seen Mark Ruffalo as the new Hulk and Jeremy Renner take on the role of Hawkeye in their own films, just so that by next summer we have more of a chance of knowing what's going on when they all collide.

Please. Fucking. End.



Oh dear.



It's telling that two of the best and most successful trilogies of the past decade also trod this familiar, bloated path, and paid the price. Spiderman 3 crowbarred in multiple villains in the shape of Venom, The Green Goblin, and Sandman, resulting in  a fatty mess which marred the series as a whole. To a lesser degree, Jackson's inability to end The Return of The King without 176 false starts meant the (still sublime) trilogy climaxing with a whimper instead of a bang.



Whedon clearly has the chops to make complex, character-laden pieces work. Lest we forget this is the man who steered the Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel series' to success, and the writer responsible for penning ensemble pieces like Serenity and Toy Story to such acclaim. But these former successes have been created on a vast canvas, TV's episodic, leisurely pacing giving so much more time to weave such a complex tapestry than the relative confines of a summer blockbuster.

The Avengers will do business, it will probably break records. But it's by avoiding the pitfalls suffered by so many predecessors that The Avengers will ultimately be judged. Here's hoping.

Cockroaches & Robert Lindsay

We pay £150 a year for our TV license in the UK. In the USA, American's pay nothing. They are rewarded with the likes of 'Game of Thrones' & 'Boardwalk Empire'.
We get 'In With The Flynns' with Will 'do anything for mainstream attention' Mellor.
'Boardwalk Empire' vs Will Mellor. Away win.

Yes, it's stretching a point. Of course, a lot of the great US produce comes through HBO, historically a pay-per-view and therefore no different to Sky Box Office and the like. And, naturally, American TV is capable of laying frequently enormous turd balls for every golden egg. But the point remains.

Why can't we be good at TV?

I know we have great stuff, i know there's the odd gem that makes us think that the £150 is well spent, and that we are still the pioneers of the small screen. Well ,we're not. Apparently (and this may be a joke), the US used to model themselves and their output on the Beeb, citing our national institution as the flagship for quality and integrity. Maybe they did, maybe indeed they still do, but they sure aren't modelling themselves on 'Holby City' or 'Traffic Cops' (at least, they'd better fucking not be)

A look at 1 page of TV listings today, and i counted 63 repeats, on 5 channels. SIXTY THREE.
'But they're great shows, and great shows are timeless'. No. Bollocks. Great shows become really good, then they become nostalgic, then they morph into timepieces, before arriving at desperation. Try showing a 16 year old from where I live an episode of 'Porridge'. See what happens. Before they remove your eyes.

"Can't believe we've got away with 13 series'"

I'm exaggerating, obviously. We only get the best stuff as imports, the grass is always greener, yada, yada. But it's true. It's true every time  I watch CSI and realise that, despite not really enjoying it, the skill on show and in writing is formidable. It's true every time i switch over and watch Robert Lindsay, the money grabbing, soul sapping, legacy fucking anti-hero of 'My Family'. A series which, brace yourselves, was re-commissioned 167 times. Or something.




Put it this way, look at the talent the US has managed to attract to the small screen. Alec Baldwin,Greg Kinnear, Edie Falco, Peter Gallagher, Tim Roth, Al Pacino, Gabriel Byrne. The list is endless.
What do we get? Idris Elba in 'Luther' . Oh. Cheers. Yep, great actor, yep, i'm sure it's a good show, but he's a man who carved his career in 'The Wire', which makes him, despite any claims to the contrary, another import.



And it's not money that lures all the talent, it can't be. Maybe it's the captive tin box audience of hundreds of millions on their sofas that swings it. Maybe, but I doubt it. Which leaves one thing. The shows themselves.

Look at the scrapes they get into! Hilarious.

I may sit down of a Sunday and despise the new Channel 4 drama set in 1970's Yorkshire (always 1970's fucking Yorkshire) written by some upstart who does his OWN PR  But it beats Big Brother, it smashes 'The Last of The Summer Wine', and, culturally, it shags 'Two Pints of Lager.......' in the blowhole.

We didn't become the envy of the world by being coy, by playing safe, and by adhering to formula. We did it by setting standards, by daring. Even talents like Alan Cumming, Anna Friel, and Jane Leeves have to emigrate to fulfil, well..............anything good.
The odd smattering of gold dust swimming in a sea of mediocrity doesn't cut it, not even close. I want big stars in British shows. But they won't come for kicks. Or money. They've got enough and the prospect of playing King Lear in the West End is a wee bit more enticing than cameoing in 'New Tricks'.

Former glories are just that. Nostalgia should always be a side show.

Build it and they will come. Write it and we will watch.