reVIEW (42)
SHALLOW GRAVE

After first hearing the buzz on Shallow Grave (1994, Talking Movies, if memory serves me right), then seeing the trailer, I immediately thought this looked like a crackerjack thriller that I needed to see.
And when I did, a bunch of names quickly barged their way onto my Need To Keep Tabs On list: among them, director Danny Boyle, screenwriter John Hodge, and actor Ewan McGregor.

An impressive feature film debut for all three, Shallow Grave tells the story of three friends and flatmates, Alex Law (McGregor), Juliet Miller (Kerry Fox), and David Stevens (Christopher Eccleston), who, at the top of the film, are interviewing prospective flatmates, in a humourous montage that highlights both the insularity of their clique, and their individual characteristics: the pushy smart-a$$ Alex, the coolly detached Juliet, the exacting David.
Soon however, they find themselves in possession of a suitcase stuffed to the brim with money, and the film gradually enters dark territories, where they are forced to navigate the slippery slopes of morality and sanity, with a suitcase full of temptation making the journey all the more difficult.

Like a blackly humourous version of one of Boyle’s subsequent films, Millions, Shallow Grave is a clever, smartly-told thriller that, through a great script by Hodge, becomes a showcase of not just Boyle’s keen directing talents, but also of a trio of excellent performances.
McGregor, of course, would go on to become the breakout star (largely in part due to his second collaboration with Boyle and Hodge, Trainspotting), one of today’s most charismatic performers, and that potential is already evident here. His Alex is that certain someone we all know who thinks he’s funnier, and more charming, and smarter than he actually is, who constantly runs off at the mouth, quite possibly to mask his own insecurities.
For all his flaws though, Alex is a charming devil, and the on-screen presence McGregor has is plainly evident. As such, the performances by Fox and Eccleston may perhaps be overlooked by some, but they’re just as informed and effective as McGregor’s. Eccleston does wonders with a torch, and Fox, well, she just subtly exudes “manipulative b!tch” like it was the latest scent from Dior.

Also, just as McGregor may have outshone both of his co-stars, Boyle himself may have served to eclipse the significant contributions Hodge made through his script, maintaining the thrills while giving us real people with palpable personalities to (perhaps) care about. The writer-director tandem would go on to collaborate in three subsequent features, Trainspotting (for which Hodge would be nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay at the Oscars), A Life Less Ordinary, and The Beach, and it would only be in the last, in that disastrous Leo-starrer, that the team would disappoint me sorely.*
Cinematographer Brian Tufano is also present on Shallow Grave, and he would then go on to shoot both Trainspotting and A Life Less Ordinary for Boyle, as well as provide additional photography for Millions. An excellent cinematographer is always a key element of Boyle’s creative arsenal, the reason why his films look so great.
Paired with editor Masahiro Hirakubo (who would edit Boyle’s films till The Beach), Tufano shoots dynamic film that alternately crackles and simmers with energetic imagery. (Though admittedly, Tufano’s true skill with the camera would be displayed more conspicuously in his two latter collaborations with Boyle.)

Slamming out of the gate with the compact and effective Shallow Grave, Boyle would go on to genre-hop like mad (drug cinema, screwball romantic comedy, zombie cinema, science fiction), in the process becoming one of modern cinema’s most inventive and interesting voices.
It all starts here though, in a flat in Edinburgh, with three friends, and a suitcase full of money.
You never really know, do you? The inauspicious beginnings of greatness…

* Sadly, for whatever reason, Hodge and Boyle would cease to collaborate following the 30-minute short film, Alien Love Triangle (originally meant to be part of a discontinued anthology feature), which was done after The Beach.

Parting shot: Shallow Grave was honoured with the Alexander Korda Award for Best British Film at the 1995 BAFTAs.

(Shallow Grave OS courtesy of amazon.co.uk; DVD cover art courtesy of amazon.com.)

reVIEW (5)
THE ISLAND

With Michael Bay’s Transformers looming on the very near horizon, I thought it might be good to resurrect this review of his previous science fiction effort, The Island. (The review was formerly known under its published name of “Tomorrow, With A Bang.")

I’ve only watched one previous Michael Bay film, Armageddon, and I found it by turns borderline cheesy and painfully laughable; none of his other films seemed interesting enough to me to make the effort for.
Then Bay decided to do The Island, and for once, I found myself actually looking forward to a Michael Bay movie. With its science fiction angle, The Island seemed to have the potential to be the first Bay film with any actual substance. And Ewan McGregor and Scarlett Johansson aren’t exactly lightweight thespians, either.
So, was my excitement justified?
Well, to weigh in on the matter, The Island’s a good movie. Go out and watch it.
Now, if you’re here for the dissection…

The Island is the tale of Lincoln Six Echo (McGregor) and Jordan Two Delta (Johansson), apparent survivors of some global “contamination” that has forced them to live in an isolated facility, their every action monitored, under the vigilant eye of Dr. Merrick (Sean Bean). The only break in the monotony of their daily routine is the lottery, which chooses one lucky individual every week to be sent to “The Island,” purportedly the last pathogen-free spot on the planet, a paradise for the blessed few.
Of course, if you’re a fan of these kinds of SF films (or, if you’ve seen the film’s trailer), you’ll know that all is not what it seems. There is a dark secret to the facility and Dr. Merrick, a secret that will be uncovered by the unusually curious Lincoln, a secret that will cause him to go on the run, Jordan in tow, in an attempt to expose the truth of this seemingly perfect (though perhaps a trifle boring) society.

I’ve always been a big fan of futuristic dystopias, from the literary (George Orwell’s 1984, William Gibson’s Sprawl Trilogy) to the cinematic (Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner, Terry Gilliam’s Brazil and Twelve Monkeys, Andrew Niccol’s Gattaca, and Michael Radford’s adaptation of 1984), and the vision presented in The Island is an interesting one. The rigorous control, from social (close proximity between members of the opposite sex is prohibited), to dietary (chemical imbalances are monitored by urine-analyzing toilets, and rectified by a careful selection of solid and liquid intake), to mental (reading material is screened, and reading lessons are apparently limited to “Dick and Jane” primers), is frighteningly claustrophobic in this future-by-Adidas society.
And it is, of course, this society that Lincoln and Jordan must flee from when the horrible truth is revealed. It is also at this point in the film when the fact that The Island is a Michael Bay film becomes readily apparent.

There was a point in Paul Verhoeven’s Total Recall when the film permanently left Philip K. Dick land and firmly entrenched itself in Arnie land. But, whereas Recall’s pivot point crippled the film beyond any hope of healing, The Island’s actually makes it a fun and agreeable thrill ride.
Bay’s bag of tricks—the adrenaline-pounding pacing, the car chases, the big explosions—is deployed to applaudable effect. This is Hollywood SF, surely, but it’s Hollywood SF that actually moves, that doesn’t get bogged down by its own hype or a spew of pretentious philo-babble.
The premise and SF scenario is just enough to make The Island more than a mere Michael Bay thrill ride (which it essentially is), while the themes—the objectification of the human being, man as the ultimate disposable product—though certainly not explored in any significant depth, are nevertheless present, also adding precious spikes of flavor to the mix.

Sadly, the performances by McGregor, Johansson, and Bean aren’t their strongest, as if they also know, instinctively, that all is in ultimate service to the Michael Bay-orchestrated action. Also, Steve Buscemi (like Michael Clarke Duncan, reunited with his Armageddon director), as McCord, Lincoln’s friend and confidante, has sadly limited screen time.
Shortcomings aside though, as I said earlier, The Island’s a good movie, a Hollywood SF actioneer that has just enough brains to make it an agreeable way to pass two hours and seven minutes of time.
Which is more than can be said for a lot of other movies being made these days.

Parting shot: For a mind-blowing approach to practically the same idea, check out the “An Orison of Sonmi-451” sections of David Mitchell’s kaleidoscopic novel, Cloud Atlas.

(The Island OS's courtesy of impawards.com.)