TINKER TAILOR SOLDIER SPY
(Review)


Since this is a film adaptation of a John le Carré spy novel, this may initially seem an odd title to get a mention here, till it becomes clear that this one is director Tomas Alfredson’s follow-up feature to past ¡Qué horror! title, Låt Den Rätte Komma In.
With an absolutely killer cast that includes Gary Oldman, John Hurt, Toby Jones, Colin Firth, Mark Strong, Benedict Cumberbatch, and Tom Hardy, this one should really be on any film enthusiast’s radar.
The recently concluded BAFTAs gave it the awards for Outstanding British Film and Adapted Screenplay (by Bridget O’Connor and Peter Straughan); it had nine additional BAFTA nominations, including nods for Cinematography and Editing (by Låt Den Rätte Komma In tag team, Hoyte Van Hoytema and Dino Jonsäter), and Original Music (by frequent Pedro Almodóvar collaborator, Alberto Iglesias).
As a neat BAFTA capper, John Hurt was also recognized for Outstanding Contribution to British Cinema.
So, go. Really. Watch this. Please.

Parting shot: Sadly, the film seems to have been short-changed at this year’s Oscars, only receiving a middling three nominations, for Actor in a Leading Role (Oldman), Original Score, and Adapted Screenplay.
Sigh.

(Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy OS courtesy of aintitcool.com.)

INDIANA JONES
AND THE
KINGDOM OF
THE CRYSTAL SKULL
(Review)

In the time leading up to the release of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, it was repeatedly mentioned by the three principal creative forces behind the film that the reason why this sequel was made nearly two decades after The Last Crusade was because fans kept asking for it.
Well, I’m a fan of Raiders of the Lost Ark, and I never really asked for it.
In point of fact, I never really asked for the other Indy films, either.
The thing is, Spielberg, Lucas, and Ford got it dead on the first time out, so much so that any attempt to capture the same sort of lightning once again was doomed from the get-go.


Raiders of the Lost Ark was one of those rare cinematic experiences that was so very particular, it should have been left alone; the pulp magic and cliffhanger nostalgia of the 1940’s serial was captured so brilliantly in Raiders that any subsequent return would invariably pale by comparison.
Thus, those two previous return trips—the prequel The Temple of Doom and sequel The Last Crusade—were ultimately wildly uneven adventure yarns trying in vain to top the original.
And Crystal Skull, despite the overt trade-in for a new inspirational template (‘50’s science fiction for ‘40’s serial cliffhanger), is, sadly, more of the same.


Much like the other Indy sequels though, Crystal Skull is also not without its merits.
The casting of the fabulous Jim Broadbent (as Charles Stanforth, Dean at Indy’s old academic stomping grounds) is laudable, despite his painfully brief screen time. The equally fabulous Cate Blanchett is also a hoot as Russian baddy, Col. Dr. Irina Spalko, while Alan Dale’s brief appearance as General Ross is greatly appreciated.
And yes, even Shia LaBeouf as greaser Mutt Williams, brings just the right mixture of youthful bravado and vulnerable emotion to his character, pushing Mutt just north of the caricature line.
The return of Karen Allen is also notable, as nostalgia does have an undeniable potency. (The scene with the framed photos of Marcus Brody and Henry Jones, Sr. was a particularly effective moment.)
And, because I’ve always been big on mythology and the weird sh!t, I love all the Roswell/Nazca lines stuff, which certainly resonates more with me than the Sankara stones of Temple of Doom.


Sadly, there’re also bits in Crystal Skull that are either downright silly (Tarzan Mutt and his horde of greaser monkeys) or painfully incredulous (while I already had difficulty with the mine car sequence in Temple of Doom, the Crystal Skull moment which gave rise to the term “nuke the fridge” certainly takes the cake for worst Indy moment, ever; it’s also rather odd that that mortifying moment leads right into the single most chilling image in any Indiana Jones movie).
As far as the rest of the cast goes, John Hurt is pretty much wasted here, as his Harold Oxley is asked to alternate between being absolutely batsh!t crazy and merely befuddled.
Ray Winstone meanwhile, as George McHale, also turns out to be a narrative distraction.
To be fair though, I don’t really think it’s either actor’s fault, as both are made to suffer because Crystal Skull’s script (by David Koepp, from a story by Lucas and Jeff Nathanson) relegates their characters to those piddling roles.


I think the trouble here is that Indy is made to interact with a surfeit of characters, so much so that by the end of the film, none of the relationships feel properly fleshed-out.
Throughout different sections of Crystal Skull, Indy deals with McHale, Mutt, and Marion, diffusing the focus of the film, when it might have been better served if one (or even two) of these supporting characters had been excised from the narrative, keeping things tight and to the point.
Instead, there’s a vaguely scattershot feel that blankets the audience as Crystal Skull unspools, as if the script were uncertain which side of Indy it wished to explore.
In the end, not only do the relationships feel conveniently rushed and contrived, but Indy also doesn’t feel like the real thing.
Much as the character himself feels suspiciously counterfeit, Crystal Skull also feels like a strained, ill-advised attempt at replicating the Raiders experience.


Now, while it’s true that the raison d’etre of any popcorn movie is to be loads of fun, and that even the most problematic of the previous post-Raiders Indy films still has its fair share of fun, there’s a difference between the kind Raiders of the Lost Ark has in spades, and the kind occasionally found in Crystal Skull, which is the transitory sort common to your average Hollywood popcorn fare.
Much as Lucas’ recent Star Wars efforts have turned out, Crystal Skull feels more like commerce than a genuine attempt at creating popcorn art.
And sadly, if Lucas and company are to be believed, it’s all our fault…

(Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull OS courtesy of impawards.com [art by Drew Struzan; design by BLT & Associates]; images courtesy of aintitcool.com, imdb.com, latimes.com, moviehole.net, and vanityfair.com.)

reVIEW (37)
THE SKELETON KEY

Iain Softley’s The Skeleton Key is the story of Caroline Ellis (Kate Hudson), a caregiver who, disillusioned with her job at a New Orleans hospice, finds work through the classified ads at a rambling antebellum home in the Louisiana swamps, caring for Ben Devereaux (the impeccable John Hurt), who apparently suffered a stroke in the home’s attic.
Cue strange goings-on, and bang, we’re right in the middle of the latest Hollywood offering where things go bump in the night, and the audience is expected to scream shrilly and jump in their seats.

Now, to be fair, The Skeleton Key is far from horrible. It’s evident what Ehren Kruger (who also penned the scripts for the terribly flawed Arlington Road and Scream 3, as well as those of the English-language remakes, The Ring—which was disappointing—and The Ring Two—which was brilliant) wanted to do in The Skeleton Key, and the effort is admirable, though the story’s pacing could have done with a little more tightening, a problem also evident in Kruger’s script for The Ring.
Even though the question “So if that was the whole point of the exercise, why didn’t all this happen as early as Day 1?” is answered neatly and effectively by the film’s climax, the plot still manages to leisurely stroll through a languid Louisiana afternoon, when it should be walking at an ever-increasing clip (then breaking out into a good old-fashioned run for dear life) through alligator-infested swamps.
As with The Ring, the sense of a threat lurking ever closer doesn’t come completely through.

On the plus side though, as I said earlier, Kruger’s effort is admirable. Yes, there are ghosts (of a sort) in this tale of terror, but they are thankfully not of the recent Hollywood variety, rotting and moldering, yet still managing to look very slick and oh-so-MTV, all jerky and quick-cut.
And there is an attempt to mask the truth of the final reveal (you may or may not figure it out, in its bits or its entirety, depending on how involved you allow yourself to be, and how shrewdly observant you are), which turns out to be a whole lot more effective than some of the more recent Hollywood horror efforts like Hide and Seek.
It also helps that it isn’t painful to watch Kate Hudson, who, though not an exceptional actress, still manages to avoid the sort of performance one gets from a Julia Roberts or a Sandra Bullock. Caroline also just has enough psychological baggage to make her more than the usual one-dimensional cutout that sometimes populates this sort of film. And, as I said, John Hurt is impeccable. (The last time anyone made the most of what could potentially have been a non-role was when Glenn Close did the coma thing as Sunny von Bulow in Barbet Schroeder’s astounding Reversal of Fortune.) Additionally, Gena Rowlands is also effective as the prickly Violet Devereaux, Ben’s wife.

Sadly, though Iain Softley’s direction is certainly not flat, it still does not quite attain the level needed for the audience to actually feel, taste, and smell the locale, the kind of level that produces atmosphere, that makes us feel the cloying humidity of Louisiana; the kind of level achieved by Alan Parker in Angel Heart, or Paul Schrader in his remake of Cat People.
If memory serves me right, it was Schrader who said that he decided to set his redux of Cat People in New Orleans because it was the sort of city where strange things could be believed to be possible.
And yes, we are treated to certain facets of hoodoo, enough to make us shiver a bit, but far from enough to actually leave us marked, or, to use hoodoo parlance, “crossed.” So it’s sad that the setting isn’t fully exploited, given the eerie richness of New Orleans and the surrounding bayou country.

Ultimately, The Skeleton Key (like Softley’s “is Kevin Spacey an alien or not” effort, K-PAX) is a film that clearly wanted to be something a little off the beaten track, but in the end, turned out flawed and vaguely dissatisfying.
Still, though The Skeleton Key may not open all of its doors satisfactorily enough for the discriminating viewer, it is nonetheless an interesting space in which to move around.

(The Skeleton Key OS courtesy of impawards.com.)

(The above is a slightly altered version of a previously published review entitled “That Hoodoo That You Do.”)