Author Archives: Gareth Negus

The five Woody Allen films you actually need to see

There’s a scene early in Whatever Works, Woody Allen’s latest film as writer/director, where the protagonist Boris (Larry David) looks directly into the camera and points out to his fellow characters: “Look! There’s an audience out there!” And I thought to myself: wow, you’re being a bit optimistic there, mate.

Whatever Works is quite a watchable film, but it’s yet another Allen tale of an aging neurotic who takes up with a much, much younger woman – in this case, Melody, a runaway played by Evan Rachel Wood. Melody’s lack of sophistication and education, and the attempts of Allen/David’s character to improve her, is played for comedy; you wonder if Soon-Yi ever watches these films and says, hang on, is that supposed to be me? Chances are that she, and you, have already seen quite a few of these films. Do you really feel that you need to see another?

Allen has never been a particularly big player in financial terms, but prior to his catastrophic break up with Mia Farrow had enough of a following to make it worthwhile bankrolling his films. After that, the (thrown out) allegations of child abuse and his relationship with his ex-partner’s adopted daughter, his portrayal of a man dating a high school girl in Manhattan seemed less like self-deprecating analysis and more like a warning.

His stock, at least in the UK, has sunk so low that the films in which he takes a lead role are guaranteed to go straight to DVD. His most successful recent films, Match Point and Vicky Christina Barcelona, were promoted respectively as a sexy thriller and a starry romcom set in a beautiful city. In both cases, you had to squint to see his name on the poster.

Even in the films where Allen hands over the lead to another actor, his authorial voice is so strong and familiar that the surrogate is almost forced into an Allen-esque performance; such as John Cusack in Bullets over Broadway. (Kenneth Branagh in Celebrity is reportedly one of the worst offenders, though I haven’t seen that one.) Vicky Christina Barcelona successfully disguises this problem by giving the Allen role to a woman, Rebecca Hall.

Larry David’s screen persona is, at least on paper, cut from similar cloth to Allen’s. Despite – or maybe because – of this, he manages not to come over purely as Allen’s sock puppet in Whatever Works. In fact, some of the most interesting moments came when I found myself thinking, “Hmm, Woody would have delivered that line differently.”

The film’s only real problem – but it’s a big one – is overfamiliarity; it feels like all the other Woody Allen films you’ve already seen. Perhaps if he didn’t knock one out every year, despite now having to chase across Europe for funding, this wouldn’t be a problem. But as it is, a new Allen film isn’t an event, it’s just something that happens on a regular basis, and the reality is that you only really need to see about five of his films before you die. For my money, those five would be Annie Hall, Manhattan, The Purple Rose of Cairo, Hannah and her Sisters, and Crimes and Misdemeanours. Now, some might wish to substitute a personal favourite for one or more of those (and if you do want more, there are plenty to choose from) but the fact remains that if you’ve seen any five Allen films, you’ve pretty much seen them all… even the good ones.

She’s Out of My League

She’s Out of My League is one of many films that attempt to marry romantic comedy with a healthy dollop of lowbrow, crowdpleasing humour, in the manner of There’s Something About Mary. Unfortunately it doesn’t manage either strand as successfully as the Farrelly brothers.

The film is the story of an average guy called Kirk (Jay Baruchel) who, by a quirk of product placement, meets and starts dating Molly (Alice Eve). Molly is something of a looker, whereas the nicest thing you could say about Jay is pale but interesting. She is, on the face of it, very much out of his league, as she would be out of most people’s. Surely, then, the possibility of this relationship being a success is so against the odds as to be an offence to the laws of nature?

The script goes out to emasculate Kirk at the start, having him still pining for his ex-girlfriend after two years, and have her and her current boyfriend living with his parents. His entire family is so ghastly that they never rise above the level of cartoons. It’s made plain that Molly has her own neuroses, but some of these are left unresolved – a sub plot about her lying to her parents (played by Alice Eve’s real life parents) about her job is left dangling.

The film’s comic highlight comes when Kirk becomes over excited as Molly gets amorous, only for her parents to unexpectedly visit at the worst possible moment. It works because everyone can relate to the fear of this happening, even if they haven’t suffered it themselves.

The other amusing scenes come courtesy of Kirk’s little team of friends, who painstakingly explain that Molly is a 10, whereas Kirk is closer to 5 (and this includes points for being funny, and deductions for driving a crap car) – thinking that adds to Kirk’s lack of confidence. A lot of the other laughs are centred around knob gags, with varying degrees of success. Factor in Molly’s sharp-tongued sidekick Patty, and you have one of those films where the supporting cast are more fun than the leads.

So, watchable enough, quite amusing, but not really in the big leagues.

StreetDance 3D

Sometimes, a film like Robin Hood just looks too bloated and pompous, too long and dull. Sometimes you just want something light and frothy. Preferably in 3D. Which is when you want something like StreetDance.

StreetDance is about a crew of street dancers, whose leader Jay takes time out five weeks before the UK street dancing championships – because, like, work and uni and that are getting really heavy, yeah? His roles of choreographer and deliverer of inspiring motivational speeches are left to his girlfriend Carly (Nichola Burley) who, unable to afford rehearsal space, makes a deal with ballet school tutor Charlotte Rampling; she will have unlimited studio time in return for taking some of the ballet students into her crew.

Well, you think, I don’t see that working out. Ballet and streetdance mixing? Why, they’re worlds apart! It’s not like they’re going to learn valuable lessons from each other, mix their disparate styles in ways that tear up the rulebooks and come up with a winning routine in just five weeks, is it? (Spoiler alert: actually, it is.)

Nobody ever went to a film like this for the screenplay, and the dialogue here barely reaches the level of functional. Casting for dance skills over acting ability means you have to expect some wooden turns, and indeed you get them. More disappointingly, Nicola Burley (who can be good – just watch Kicks for the evidence) seems to have been dragged down to the same level. In one early scene she manages to make the line, “Why didn’t you tell me? I looked completely stupid,” sound as though it was written as “Why didn’t you tell me I looked completely stupid?”. As for her various morale-raising speeches to her crew, she doesn’t sound as though she believes a word of it.

But the dancing is what counts, and StreetDance offers plenty of it. Various people from TV talent shows crop up; of the ones I’d heard of, Diversity only get one scene, but George Sampson pops in and out throughout before his big solo near the climax. There were probably others.

I’m something of a 3D agnostic; it’s fun for a bit, but after a while I stop noticing it (even in Avatar) – which makes me wonder what the point is. Still, if any film ought to benefit from 3D it’s this one, and the technique is indeed used well throughout. It’s quite consciously designed to show off the moves, throwing in some funky bullet time moments, though some of the overhead shots make people appear freakishly tall.

You can’t pretend StreetDance is a good film, but it delivers what it says on the tin, and I didn’t look at my watch once. Bet that wouldn’t have been true of Robin Hood.

What Went Wrong with the Digital Screen Network

Unless you live in a major city, it’s never been easy getting to see arthouse films in the UK. London may be well served, and the bulk of the foreign language films to reach these shores do get round the larger conurbations, if only briefly. But anywhere else? Not so lucky.

The Digital Screen Network (http://www.ukfilmcouncil.org.uk/dsn) was an attempt by the UK Film Council to tackle this. The idea was to kickstart the growth of digital projection in the UK, enabling smaller films to appear on more screens at once, and encouraging cinemas to play more specialised product, thereby encouraging more people to try them.

It sounded good in theory. 35mm prints are very expensive, and for a lot of foreign language/arthouse films distributors can only afford to risk investing in a handful. This means the films take forever to make their way round the country’s arthouse and indie cinemas, whereas a major Hollywood release can play everywhere at once. And if an art release does start generating word of mouth and becomes unexpectedly popular, there aren’t enough copies to meet public demand. With digital, a hard drive can be sent round any number of cinemas, the film downloaded and played at each one. Popular films can be shown wherever there’s a demand, and the wider distribution encourages mainstream audiences to take a risk on something from beyond Hollywood.

A network of 240 screens was set up, with a new digital projector provided for each participating cinema. The deal was each venue would play an agreed percentage of specialised films in return for this very expensive bit of new kit – one which also allows a variety of other events (noticed any opera, theatre or comedy events showing at your nearest Picturehouse? All thanks to digital). Naturally, a lot of cinemas leaped at this. And that’s where things started to go wrong.

Far more cinemas applied than could be included in the network. And by making the application process competitive – cinemas needed to promise an increasing number of specialised screenings across the 5 year timescale of the scheme – the UKFC encouraged people to make major promises that they wouldn’t have to worry about for a few years. This included some of the UK’s major arthouse venues, as well as independently owned small town venues and multiplexes.

That’s right, multiplexes were included. Now, I’ve no issue with such venues being encouraged to show a wider range of films, but some might question the wisdom of a publically-funded body to subsidise digital conversion for the commercial sector. In addition, I would be very interested to know just how big an increase those venues promised; the UKFC’s definition of ‘specialised’, which you can see at http://www.ukfilmcouncil.org.uk/media/pdf/r/2/Defining_Specialsied_Film_Update_20_04_08_.pdf , is broad enough to include Bollywood (which is utterly mainstream for some venues), as well as the likes of Inglorious Basterds, Fantastic Mr Fox, and Slumdog Millionaire: all product that would have made it to the Odeons and Cineworlds without any encouragement.

But still, you can see the UKFC’s thinking on this. It’s not really where they went wrong. Their mistake – and it’s a massive one – is that having set up the DSN, they then proceeded to do exactly jackshit with it. For about two years.

I’ve spoken to or corresponded with a number of cinema managers about this, and they all tell much the same story. Initially, the UKFC asked for records of specialised films shown by spreadsheet, but that soon stopped, with the promise that all reporting would soon be done over the internet. Then they went quiet. No feedback was received on the programming to date (at least, not to any venue Uncle Frank contacted). No sign of the promised internet reporting. No contact at all over a year.

I don’t think it takes a genius to see that if you want over 200 cinemas to increase their specialised programming – which could potentially be a commercial risk for them – you don’t just leave them to get on with it. You keep an eye on them, you maybe flag up films they might like to consider, keep them up to date with any specialised titles that have proven to do well with audiences. If cinemas are failing to keep up their end of the bargain, you might like to ask them what the problem is, and see if you can come up with a solution. What you do, in other words, is nurture your creation.

But the UKFC didn’t do that. They just clammed up, and left most of the cinemas to assume they’d lost interest and had stopped taking notes.

Eventually, the long-promised online reporting system appeared, and venues were asked to check and confirm a couple of years of programming. Hardly a surprise that many had underperformed, mostly through no fault of their own. And someone at the UKFC must have woken up at around this time, because they started making very bullish noises; Peter Buckingham, the UKFC’s Head of Distribution, was telling industry conferences that “if you don’t meet your contractual commitments, you will lose your digital projector.”

This helpful attitude was carried on to a letter sent out to underperforming cinemas in summer 2009, threatening to find any cinemas failing to meet their required number of specialised screenings in breach of contract, meaning they could lose their digital projector. Having trouble? Need to run popular films to pay the bills? Discovered your audience prefers Mamma Mia and Sex and the City to non-stop arthouse? Tough.

With hindsight, one has to wonder how much of this hard-ass posturing (because nobody seriously believed the UKFC was going to have all these projectors removed from cinemas up and down the country – aside from being a very public admission of the DSN’s failure, it would be a massive pain in the arse) was down to the impending budget cuts at the UKFC, and the publically raised possibility of a merger with the British Film Institute. Were I of a cynical bent, I might wonder if people were suddenly feeling the need to justify their continued employment.

Eventually, the UKFC blinked. Having stated that they would not renegotiate any venues’ contracted specialised levels, they sent out a letter carefully worded so as not to sound like a complete reversal of that position. Instead, the agreements have now been extended by a year, and underperforming venues are being asked to keep to a noticeably lower average number of screenings per week. This will allow them to ‘catch up’, apparently.

It won’t, obviously, but it saves face all round. The UKFC may even withdraw a few projectors, just so that they can look tough. But really it just hides the fact that the aims of the DSN have been spectacularly missed. Just by how much is difficult to tell – the UKFC to date have not published the numbers. Their annual statistical yearbook is due out in a couple of months – can we perhaps hope for some hard info on how much specialised film provision has increased in the UK compared to the pre-DSN days, whether that increase is taking place across the commercial and independent sector equally, and who the biggest underperformers are.

I suspect they’ll keep that to themselves. It’s a shame; the objectives of the DSN were laudable and ambitious. Pity that the UKFC didn’t seem all that interested in following them through in practice.

Hot Tub Time Machine

In the latest issue of Empire, John Cusack says of Hot Tub Time Machine, “I think if you get a great title for a movie, the rest will write itself.” One hopes he’s not being entirely serious. Unfortunately, the makers of HTTM seem happy enough to let the concept do most of the work.

Adam (Cusack), his old buddy Nick Webber and his nephew take their suicidal, alcoholic friend Lou back to the ski resort where they spent some of the highlights of their youth. Here, an accident with a hit tub turns it into a time machine which transports them back to 1986, obliging them to grapple with the risks of the Butterfly Effect and the temptation of changing their futures for the better.

So far, so good. But much of the comedy is puerile; lots of dick and blow job gags, with a ridiculously unconvincing bit of projectile vomiting near the start setting the tone. I like a good knob gag as much as the next man, but the regret the characters feels for their hopes and dreams – you know, the emotional core of the film – gets smothered under a steady flow of bodily fluids.

Cusack is good, of course, but deserves better. Chevy Chase has a peculiar cameo as a possibly magical/science-fictional hot tub repairman, which doesn’t really work. If going for an 80s icon, why not someone who was in Back to the Future (Crispin Glover has a part, after all)? Then again, Bill Murray would have been better, but frankly the film isn’t aiming for that kind of quality.

A couple of other good points: Lizzy Caplan is in it, though in a too-small part, and any film which includes Animotion’s Obsession on the soundtrack wins points from Uncle Frank. Though it also reminded me how much more I enjoyed Adventureland last year.

Still, if you like toilet humour and are old enough to have seen Back to the Future in the cinema, this is very much the film for you.

Four Lions and The Infidel

Honestly – you wait ages for a British comedy about crazy Islamists, then two come along (almost) at once. Kind of.

OK, not really. But The Infidel and Four Lions – two comedies with Muslim protagonists, both written by white men more associated with TV comedy – have been released in sufficient proximity to make comparisons inevitable, if arguably unwarranted.

Of the two, The Infidel is the least political. It focuses on the odd friendship between Omid Djalili’s not-very-devout Muslim who learns he is a Jew adopted at birth, and Richard Schiff’s drunken cabbie. Much comedy of embarrassment follows, as Mahmud Nasir (Djalili) attempts to act Jewish, attends a bar mitzvah, and an Islamist protest rally.

His identity crisis offers some decent laughs, though drawn from often quite broad stereotypes. But David Baddiel’s screenplay also throws in an antagonist for our confused hero in the form of Arshad El Masri, a fanatical preacher who espouses his own selective reading of the Koran, and is Mahmud’s prospective father in law.

El Masri is the sort of smiling, but mad, preacher who might have helped radicalise the protagonists of Four Lions. Baddiel is rightly unafraid to mock him – he has a follower with a metal claw in place of one hand, clearly inspired by the tabloids’ favourite panto villain, Abu Hamza. The latter part of the film is driven by the clash between him and Mahmud’s we’re-not-so-different-under-it-all philosophy.

Sadly, the resolution to this clash and the way in which Mahmud triumphs is based on an absurd plot twist that is straight ouot of a TV sitcom of the My Family mould. It doesn’t ring even faintly true for a moment, and lets the film down badly.

Chris Morris’ feature debut Four Lions is much harder edged. It follows in the comedy tradition of a group of apparent friends, bound to each other by some need without necessarily liking each other, who manage to disastrously overcomplicate a simple plan. Other tales of male camaraderie would feature a group of people trying to organise a stag night, or maybe start a business together, or become a bunch of strippers… with hilarious consequences (I’ve always wanted to write that).

The film follows a group of bumbling would-be jihadis as they variously plan a suicide bombing campaign, flunk their training in Afghanistan – a sequence which pays off with a corking gag at the close – and record their suicide videos, ending up only with outtakes. The comedy comes from the fact that they fumble their way through their schemes less like a Spooks-style sleeper cell, and more like the heroes of Dad’s Army. It’s often very funny, but also chilling as the consequences of the group’s fanaticism are illustrated; a mix that the less sharp toothed The Infidel does not attempt.

If the film has a weakness, it’s that their motivations for mass murder are suggested, but left unexplored. Sure, some of them are none too bright and easily led. Barry, the white Islamic convert, is a crazed nihilists looking for a way to channel his hatred of everything. But Omar – the film’s central figure and hero of sorts – must surely have thought about it more deeply. What exactly was the point when this husband and father decided to kill himself, and as many others as possible, and why does his wife support it? (Does she think he won’t actually go through with it?)

Whether Four Lions will result in a storm of Brass Eye style outrage from idiots who can’t cope with the idea of finding humour from suicide bombers remains to be seen (the Daily Mail might still be getting its breath back after it’s fury over Kick Ass). Perhaps Chris Morris will have to go into hiding to escape a fatwa. I hope the film will be widely seen; not only is it good entertainment, it might just make a few possible suicide bombers think twice.

Alice in Wonderland and the shrinking cinema window

No big surprise to see that Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland has become a major cinema success, helped by the current popularity of 3D. The widely publicised dispute between several multiplex chains and Disney over the early DVD release does not seem to have had any significant impact on the general public’s decision as to whether or not to see the film in the cinema.

But it was never likely to. Alice was always going to be OK, and the cinemas knew that. What they’re concerned about is not the odd blockbuster slipping out early, but the effect on cinemas of a general ongoing erosion of that period of exclusivity. There will always be a handful of films which absolutely demand to be seen at the cinema, be they of the Avatar school of spectacle or the Mamma Mia-style shared experience; but these are relatively rare.

At the other end of the scale to Alice, there have been some experiments with window breaking in the arthouse market; Artificial Eye have released several titles simultaneously in cinemas and through Sky Box Office, and titles from other distributors like The September Issue have had similar releases without the sky falling in on anyone’s heads. But these are films with a limited market, and that market likes to support its local arthouse venue. Given the choice between watching the film with an audience (or at least the right kind of audience, ie people like them) and watching it on telly, they will actively opt for the former.

A bigger question mark is over middle-ranking titles; the likes of Up in the Air, The Blind Side etc. Films which can do well in multiplexes, but need a bit of heat behind them in order to do well, whether it comes from award nominations, a popular star, or both. Will people bother making the effort to see these films, if they know the DVD/download is only a few weeks away? And once that happens, will the people who currently only visit the cinema a few times a year lose the habit altogether?

One possible effect is that we may see fewer films given a cinema release. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, as there are certainly too many being released right now. Anything up to ten titles come out on any given Friday; there just isn’t room for all of them to find an audience. Look at something like Everybody’s Fine – a perfectly watchable film, which lasted barely a fortnight on general release. Nobody went to see it, but there was no reason for them to. It’s a film that works just as well on TV; there is no impulse to go to the time and effort and making it to the cinema. Wouldn’t it be cheaper to go straight to DVD? The only benefit of a cinema release for a title like this is the potential publicity from the reviews, and perhaps avoiding the stigma of the direct to video stinker. (Whether distributors actually worry about this, I have no idea. Perhaps it’s more of a contractual obligation than anything else.)

Either way, once the theatrical window becomes a thing of the past – and it seems as though ultimately it will – are cinemas living on borrowed time? There’s bound to be a contraction in the market; one or two of the major chains may contract, or give up their theatres altogether. Or maybe they will diversify, presenting more alternative content – big sporting events, more live comedy, opera, theatre. Smaller, locally based cinemas and chains may also be able to weather any contraction in the market, if they can focus on their specific local audience.

But while I don’t see cinemas as being in any way doomed – however threatened their current business model may be – I still regret the loss of the special nature of the cinema experience. I still love seeing films in a big room, and sharing that with a large group of other people. And I wish the people running the studios felt the same way.