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Film: The Devil's Rock
Year of production: 2011
UK Release date: 11th July 2011
Distributor: Metrodome
Certificate: 18
Running time: 98 mins
Director: Paul Campion
Starring: Gina Varela, Karlos Drinkwater, Craig Hall, Matthew Sunderland
Genre: Action/Drama/Fantasy/Horror/Thriller/War
Format: DVD
Country of Production: New Zealand
Language: English
Review by: Daryl Wing
First time director Paul Campion is best known for his work as a visual effects artist on classic trilogies Lord Of The Rings and The Chronicles Of Narnia, as well as the outstanding Sin City and Greek legends dud Clash Of The Titans. It surely bodes well for his first feature-length, a war-torn horror, whetting the appetite for gory mayhem galore. But has Campion got what it takes to step up a level, or will The Devil’s Rock be bowed down beneath a burden akin to Greek Titan Atlas after rebelling against Zeus?
It’s the eve of D-Day and allied commandos are carrying out sabotage raids on the German occupied Channel Islands to draw attention away from Normandy.
On Forau Island, two New Zealand comrades, Captain Ben Grogan (Craig Hall) and Sergeant Joe Tane (Karlos Drinkwater) have been sent to destroy gun replacements, but after negotiating a tricky route to their target a woman’s screams lure them into an isolated fortress.
It’s here they discover the attractive female Helena (Gina Varela), held captive by rusty chains, surrounded by mutilated bodies, and after resistance from Colonel Klaus Meyer (Matthew Sunderland), Grogan has to decide whether he’ll help the girl escape the island or stop a Nazi occult plot to unleash demonic forces in order to win the war…
Campion’s The Devil’s Rock is an engaging, neatly constructed horror whose conventionality is never endangered by the supernatural violence it could depict – dismembered bodies may be strewn across the blood-stained floors, while others (one in particular has a rifle rammed down its throat) are slumped across the walls coated in vital fluid, but, for the most part, the horrors are hidden away like the devil herself.
This could’ve been a grimy, torture-porn tribute to films like Saw, albeit on a smaller budget, so it’s nice to report that the blunt savagery has been replaced by subtle bloodshed (for the most part), characterization and excellent performances from our two male leads. Sunderland, as the sly Colonel Meyer, is the standout, with his “we’re both in the same s**t” persona managing to convince Hall’s Grogan that it’s best if they stick together. The Grogan character is let down by his indecisiveness - all too often it gets him into far too much trouble, and his inability to think rationally questions how he has been so well-rewarded career-wise, let alone stay alive.
The opening, which sees Grogan and comrade Sergeant Tane (a sadly underused Karlos Drinkwater) looking to destroy gun replacements, impresses with its washed-out visuals and tense plotting fused with deliciously entertaining dialogue that adds artful back-story to a gripping preamble. Add to that a tense crawl through the fortress, one scene shocking with its unseen brutality, and a neat standoff between our two foes means that the opening act genuinely zips by with frequent flutters of excitement. Even the slightly talky second act has enough good moments to enjoy, but this all depends on whether or not the viewer can suspend disbelief and accept a twist that may turn The Devil’s Rock into a bit of a farce.
Campion certainly tries his best to restore some of its early protocol with Meyer delivering a few lines that throw us back on track; the majority of viewers hopefully convinced by now that the devil can rip its victim apart by becoming the someone they thought was the love of their life, but Grogan will still have you screaming at the screen for his inability to trust a Nazi over his dead wife, no matter how many times Meyer utters “fairytale bulls**t.” The other major bugbear is a revelation that would allow for easy escape, and yet, once again, the auteur cleverly persuades us to believe that there’s little point in flying the waters when the biggest weapon of all is unable to.
Before all this, though, is a cheekily dramatic awakening and one of the finest removing-a-bullet scenes in the history of bullet-removing scenes you’ll ever witness. You’ll still be questioning whether Grogan is just happy to hear his slaughtered spouse’s voice after all these years, though, but to be fair, she sounds a hell of a lot better than the camp, almost laughable powers of articulation of the real villain of the piece – a tranny-she-devil that disappoints far more than it delivers – hardly a devil to die for, whether it’s a lesser demon or not.
Still, she’s more exciting than the lengthy setting up of a ritual, which basically involves drawing circles with chalk while our antagonist struggles to break down the door keeping her from her next meal. Luckily, the final act finally reawakens along with one of the diseased in a genuinely hilarious moment of madness, even if the zombie comes across more drunk than dangerous, and a fine act of betrayal once again disguises Grogan’s implausible anguish.
Gina Varela is finally able to tease us after a stuttering performance, hindered by her unholy, and unfrightening true self, including daft dialogue such as “you b**tard son of Adam” that hardly delivers the chills such a villain warrants – maybe Campion’s script (co-written with Paul Finch) would’ve been more provocative if he had worked as a visual effects artist on The Exorcist rather than Eragon. Having said that, the rivetingly repellent effects on show here are reason enough to watch.
Despite a devil who would certainly prefer to wear Prada, The Devil's Rock is a promising start for first-time director Paul Campion. With some good performances, plentiful gore, and an intriguing premise that throws up enough surprises, it whets the appetite for future projects. This could do for Campion what Dog Soldiers did for Marshall.
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Film: Bran Nue Dae
Year of production: 2009
UK Release date: 4th July 2011
Distributor: Arrow
Certificate: 12
Running time: 72 mins
Director: Rachel Perkins
Starring: Rocky McKenzie, Jessica Mauboy, Ernie Dingo, 'Missy' Higgins, Geoffrey Rush
Genre: Comedy/Drama/Musical
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Australia
Language: English
Review by: Calum Reed
In many ways, Bran Nue Dae does exactly what it says on the tin; the phonetic spelling of its title intoning the musical motivations of a song-and-dance comedy intuitively focused upon Australia’s Aboriginal culture. In a similar vein as Warwick Thornton’s biblically-titled Samson And Delilah, Rachel Perkins’ feature is concerned with the fate of Australian youth – but rather than depict this through symbolic imagery, opts for much lighter methods to help us relate to its protagonists.
Celebrated by Australian critics and audiences alike, Bran Nue Dae is based on Jimmy Chi’s 1990 stage musical of the same name, and tells the story of Willie (Rocky McKenzie), a timid teenager training to become a priest in a Perth school. Willie’s rash mistakes lead to an early crisis of faith, and a bust-up with the stubborn Father Benedictus (Geoffrey Rush) prompting him to decide to return to his hometown of Broome. With no way of getting there, he must find alternative means, which come courtesy of ‘Tadpole’ (Ernie Dingo), a scruffy-looking elderly drifter with a drink problem who eventually helps Willie on his way by feigning a car accident and wangling a ride from two touring hippies.
From there, Bran Nue Dae follows the adventures of man and boy as they navigate the testier characters between them and their destination; nameably, the seductresses vying to take Willie’s cherry. It’s largely a courtship of musical numbers and farcical comedy, as it charts the pair’s eventual return to home and their confrontation with the lives that have kept them estranged from Broome.
As well as struggling with his sense of purpose and uncertain future, Willie must cope with his attraction to childhood friend Rosie, and face the wrath of his formidable mother…
In shading its animated characters as vibrant, tearaway lyric-busters, Perkins’ film assumes the position of a socially-conscious carnival – seemingly keen to revise representations of Indigenous Australians as regressive or obsolete. This is achieved through following the conventions of coming-of-age-tale narratives, pitting Willie as a firm underdog within this brazen, eclectic, and evolved world, and emphasising his lack of confidence (and for that matter, others’ lack of confidence in him) as the main obstacle to be overcome. Bran Nue Dae goes with the grain in detailing this Australia as colourful, and surrounding its modest central character with a fun-loving cavalcade of down-to-earth extroverts to bring him out.
The child-like feel to Bran Nue Dae recalls films with an inherently educational purpose, and its paddling, foolhardy style helps it to maintain some interest. Unfortunately, the characters and story are developed either minimally, or with such little care, that it all becomes a big washout. It’s difficult to relate to the looseness and hyperactivity of the film’s ‘crazy gang’, and Rocky McKenzie isn’t a very interesting actor to watch - understandably struggling to make an impression with the dominance placed on upping the quirks and confining Willie to a state of wide-eyed wonderment.
Appreciating this film may be reliant upon whether you buy into the personalities on show. If nothing else, Bran Nue Dae adorns its musical set-pieces with character (in the way that the Jewish musical Fiddler On The Roof manages to) to create a permanent state of whimsy to these people. Their congregation liberates them. And still, as the upbeat, Jungle Book-esque tracks engage, they also feel very infantile. ‘All I Ever Want To Be (Is To Be An Aborigine)’ is not the most profound of messages – nor does it have to be – but when the cast sing it there isn’t a lot of clarity as to what this euphoric cultural celebration means beyond embracing working class life – which is a popular statement in the genre as it is. There’s a wiry thread of social commentary in the references to sexual experimentation in adolescence: the lyric “If you don’t use a condom then don’t bother coming home,” for instance, references the problems of teenage pregnancy; while on the other side of the coin, Father Benedictus acts as a critiqued, narrow white perspective on Aboriginal life.
The final few scenes of this modest, 70-minute film feel especially rushed, as a wave of revelations and back-story come to cloud a pretty straightforward pilgrimage. Bran Nue Dae had been so unconcerned with providing a non-figurative history to its characters before this that it feels like both an abrupt surprise and a desperate search for finality to divulge so much information in one silly, overplayed late sequence. All of the characters’ difficulties are thoughtlessly and barely tied up, and the message that the film ends on is virtually the same one with which it began: positivity and belonging are the spice of life.
The inclusivity of Bran Nue Dae and its snap-happy tone come at a price: too much emphasis is placed on generating surfeits of ‘fun’, while there is precious little revealed about what it means to be a 16-year-old boy growing up in a small town. The comedy too often errs on the side of meaningless farce, and it buys into familiar tropes to detail adolescence - like unwanted virginity and a lack of a father figure. Bran Nue Dae may be popularly advocated as a harmless pocket of cross-country activity, but its disappointing ineffectuality and lack of ambition are reasons enough to stay away.
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Film: Don't Look Now
Year of production: 1973
UK Release date: 4th July 2011
Distributor: Optimum
Certificate: 15
Running time: 110 mins
Director: Nicolas Roeg
Starring: Julie Christie, Donald Sutherland, Hilary Mason, Clelia Matania, Massimo Serato
Genre: Drama/Horror/Mystery/Thriller
Format: Blu-ray
Country of Production: UK/Italy
Language: English/Italian
Review by: Mark Player
Nicolas Roeg's classic supernatural mystery Don't Look Now is getting the special edition Blu-ray treatment courtesy of Optimum Home Releasing, but is it worth the upgrade?
On a damp Sunday afternoon, a young girl sporting a red rain coat plays with her brother in the English countryside that surrounds her home. Her parents, John (Donald Sutherland) and Laura (Julie Christie) Baxter, are inside. Whilst observing some architectural slides for a restoration project, John senses that something is wrong and leaves the house. His instincts prove to be correct. His daughter, Christie, has fallen into a nearby pond and is drowning. John rushes into the water to haul her out, but he is too late. Christie has died.
Sometime later, John and Laura are staying in Venice, where John has been contracted by Bishop Barbarrigo (Massimo Serato) to perform restoration work on a dilapidated church in the city. Whilst dining in a restaurant, Laura encounters two strange and elderly sisters (Hilary Mason and Clelia Matania) in the bathroom. One of the sisters, Heather, is blind and claims to have psychic abilities. She goes on to give very specific details about John and Laura's deceased daughter. This overwhelms yet intrigues Laura who, after collapsing and being sent to hospital, is strangely energised and positive about the whole thing.
Laura seeks the sisters again to see if it’s possible to make contact with Christie from beyond, much to the alarm of John who fears that Christie is beginning to lose her mind. However, John's grief also seems to be getting the better of him as he begins to see glimpses of a small, childlike figure lurking amongst the cloisters and alleyways of the city, wearing a red raincoat...
Based on Daphine du Maurier's short story of the same name, and dubbed as a 'psychic thriller' at the time of its original theatrical release, Don't Look Now was very much ahead of its time in several ways. Annoyingly, the film has since become such a key work in British cinema that there's very little that can be said about it that's actually new. It's subtle depiction of the occult, unlike the overt Satan-worship of Rosemary's Baby (1968) or the special effects showboating of The Exorcist (1973); Graeme Clifford's fractured flash-back and flash-forward editing; the film's associative colours (particularly red) and its famous love scene between Sutherland and Christie have been dissected by many a scholar, critic and student of film.
However, it bears repeating in saying just how well the film has aged and how influential it has remained after nearly forty years. Few films capture the emotional gulf created by grief as well as director Nicolas Roeg does here, further defined by strong performances from both Julie Christie and Donald Sutherland. It’s one of the more credible on-screen marriages in cinema, perhaps best and most obviously personified by their infamous love scene, a scene added by Roeg to help displace the scenes where the couple are in disagreement. Although it was very explicit at the time – to the extent that rumours of Sutherland and Christie's performance being unsimulated continue to circulate – Roeg counterbalances the frankness of that moment by inter-cutting it with shots of post-coital dressing and preparation for a meal out; partly to appease the far more stringent censorship regulations of the time and partly to perpetuate the film's ongoing motif of portending events.
Past, present and future occupy the same time and space on a frequent basis. John is continually haunted by the imagery of his drowning daughter whilst wearing her iconic red coat. This imagery starts to transcend recollection and enters reality as John starts to see an elusive red coat-wearing figure during the night. Things start to get even more interesting when he also starts to unwittingly see future events, confusing them with the present.
The use of Venice as the film's setting is positively inspired. The labyrinthine alleyways of the floating city not only feel claustrophobic and nightmarish, but facilitate a visual representation for the characters’ mental states. John and Laura often lose their bearings and become separated. The multiple waterways of the city act as a continual reminder of the tragedy both characters are burdened with; one scene sees John fish a discarded child's doll out from the canal, echoing the moment when he tried to save his daughter at the film's start. Death is therefore irrevocably linked to water, made all the more prominent by a seemingly superficial serial killer subplot whose victims are routinely found dead in the canals.
Roeg's camera and editing style is not quite as groundbreaking as some make out to be, considering his earlier features, Performance (1970) and Walkabout (1971), employ similar techniques; with the former utilising a ‘cut-ups’ method of editing, inspired by the literary technique pioneered by William Burroughs. However, Don't Look Now was perhaps the first of Roeg's films to use these techniques as an intrinsic and inseparable narrative framework, as opposed to merely embellishing ideas, suggesting a concept of advanced cinematic grammar that has now become stock and trade. Whilst a little mechanical in places, the technical execution of the film also lends an uncertain menace to the proceedings, further augmented by the location's twisted geography.
With regards to the Blu-ray, Optimum have done a commendable job. The picture quality, if a little inconsistent, is very good overall for a film of this vintage. Some shots are marred by a grainy softness due to limitations of the original source, as opposed to fault with the disc itself. There seem to be no major issues with artifacting and other compression symptoms. Audio won't take full advantage of one's home cinema system, due to the age and nature of the production, but is suitably clear and crisp. Overall, while Don't Look Now isn't exactly an essential must-see title for Blu-ray, it still looks very good.
Don't Look Now is horror at its most subtle and thoughtful; standing as one of director Nicolas Roeg's best films. Although its cerebral style nurtures occasional stretches of what feels like not much going on, it still remains riveting and interesting viewing, regardless of its subsequent legions of flashier disciples. Don't Look Now comes recommended. MP
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Film: Animal Kingdom
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 11th July 2011
Distributor: Optimum
Certificate: 15
Running time: 108 mins
Director: David Michôd
Starring: James Frecheville, Bryce Lindemann, Paul Smits, Jacki Weaver, Joel Edgerton
Genre: Crime/Drama/Thriller
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Australia
Language: English
Review by: Rob Markham
Gangster movies. Just when you think they’ve died out, they seem to sprout again like weeds. From classic, noirish Shakespearean stories of betrayal and lust through to the slapstick caricature of more recent British gangster flicks, it seems there are few places left for this genre to go and one wonders if it has run its course. David Michôd’s Animal Kingdom, based on actual events in Melbourne in 1988, offers us a worm’s-eye view of suburban crime, with surprising, and critically acclaimed results.
After the death of his mother from a heroin overdose, Josh goes to live with his Grandmother, Janine, the matriarch of a notorious Melbourne crime family. Josh’s uncles - Pope, Craig and Darren - and family friend Baz take Josh under their wing and he becomes embroiled in their misdeeds.
As armed robbery is on the wane, and the volatile Armed Robbery Squad are increasingly unpredictable and vindictive, the family begins to question the future, and to move into other areas for their income, such as drug dealing and the stock market.
When one of the gang is murdered, paranoia and fear spreads throughout the family, and, as the newcomer, Josh becomes an object of suspicion.
Caught between his family and the law, Josh must learn the basic, animal rules of survival if he is to survive in a world he is not equipped to deal with…
Fear is the overriding theme throughout Animal Kingdom. Every character is touched by it at some point. Whether they are living in it, or causing it in others, fear permeates every scene and every line of dialogue in David Michôd’s masterful tale of crime and family, which is one of the grittiest thrillers in recent years.
Told from the point-of-view of Josh, we are straight away thrown into a world we do not understand, and one in which nothing is what it seems and everything should be suspected and questioned. The opening scene sees Josh, apparently bored, watching Deal Or No Deal on television while his mother lies unconscious next to him. This could easily be a scene of bored youth in a disaffected time, but, within seconds, we learn that his mother has just overdosed on heroin, and seconds later, we find out that she is dead. We learn little of Josh, his background or his upbringing, and are instead thrown, shell-shocked, into the world of the Cody crime family and their oppressive and dangerous matriarch, Janine.
First appearing as a saviour for Josh, we soon learn Janine is as cold and calculating as any figurehead of any crime organization. Underneath her warm smile and demand for kisses in public is the same cold nature that drove Michael Corleone or Tony Soprano, and the behaviour of her sons reflects perfectly what it must have been like to be raised by such a matriarch. Pope is on the run from the police, Craig is heavily into drugs (dealing and using), while Darren, possibly confused about his sexuality, resorts to sitting in the shadows and using marijuana to cope. This is dysfunction at its finest and each actor takes to their role perfectly, showing the volatile nature of crime and the strain it puts on families, especially when it’s all they know.
Michôd does a remarkable job of making sure the tension never lets up throughout by ensuring a constant atmosphere of fear and paranoia that is aided by the superb performances. As Pope, Ben Mendlesohn is terrifying, channeling frustration and anger to painfully restrained levels and creating a sociopath of epic proportions. By turns afraid of his lack of patriarchal power in the family, and angry at almost everything, the character provides one of the most effective screen villains seen for some time. As matriarch, Janine ‘Smurf’ Cody, Jacki Weaver is equally scary, peeling away layers of niceties to reveal a cold and hard crime boss who will do whatever it takes to survive. Added to this, Joel Edgerton, Luke Ford and Sullivan Stapleton as the family/gang members portray testosterone soaked, fearful masculinity to terrific effect, transcending stereotypes and avoiding caricature. In fact, each character, in reference to the title, portrays animal-like behaviour perfectly capturing the essence of their character. Baz is bear-like and strong, Craig like a caged wild cat, Pope is cold, reptilian and untrustworthy, and Janine is the Black Widow, deadly and calculating.
At first glance, it seems that James Frecheville is a little uncomfortable in the central role of Josh, the young cub, but his lack of charisma, intelligence and emotion serves to keep the audience at a distance, ensuring we observe the horrific events unfold rather than become complicit in them. It is through his eyes that we see the world, and we are squarely on his level in terms of our familiarity and comfort with it. When called upon to portray strong emotion, he does an effective job, and the return to his dispassionate look at the end of the film is as horrifying as it is inevitable.
The title reflects the way these characters live, and the laws they operate by in their own world of armed robberies and drug dealing. Favouring interiors and claustrophobia over the open spaces Australia has in abundance, Michôd nevertheless shoots the action like a wildlife documentary, distancing us from the action and the characters, but never flinching from the minutiae. Movements within scenes, especially prevalent in the family home, are deliberate, brimming with restrained energy as each character fights against the perceived imprisonment their life has caused. It’s engrossing to watch, and every time the family is together, the tension is palpable.
Michôd’s use of slow motion seems to be an attempt to wring emotion and gravity out of scenes that are already heavily populated with both, and, at these times, it can feel a little melodramatic, but overall this is a powerful and effective film, superbly acted and written, and one which deserves high standing in the genre. His use of colour, or lack of it, gives the film a look of cold, hard reality, but not one that is instantly recognizable, increasing the gap between the characters and the audience. Likewise, the lack of gangster cliché set-pieces, such as actual armed robbery (glimpsed only in beautifully grainy stills over the opening credits), and the swift but brutally restrained violence adds to the sense that what we are seeing is not something we are supposed to immerse ourselves in or identify with, but something we should observe and learn from.
Strong performances and outstanding direction make Animal Kingdom a must for fans of the genre, but there is more to it than the standard formula. Michôd has crafted an effective look at the destructive nature of crime and the toll it takes on families, showing us a world where basic laws of survival rule and only the strong survive. Taut and gripping, it is a standout entry in a crowded genre and a welcome relief from the usual clichés. RM
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Film: Doing Time For Patsy Cline
Year of production: 1997
UK Release date: 20th June 2011
Distributor: Crabtree
Certificate: 15
Running time: 95 mins
Director: Chris Kennedy
Starring: Richard Roxburgh, Miranda Otto, Matt Day, Tony Barry, Roy Billing
Genre: Comedy/Drama
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Australia
Language: English
Review by: Mary Igoe
It’s probably safe to say that the more successful Australian films tend to build up a cult following, judging by the exploits of Muriel’s Wedding and The Adventures Of Priscilla, Queen Of The Desert. If the secret to a winning formula’s down to a certain ‘je-ne-sais-quoi’, then Doing Time For Patsy Cline has a lot of work to do, but an American deep-south warbler crossed with an Australian out-back comedy may just do the trick!
It all starts with the shy, country & western-loving hicky Ralph leaving his home on the family farm to find fame and fortune with his guitar in America’s Nashville. With a one way plane ticket in his pocket, Ralph’s parents drop him off at a crossroads in the middle of the outback so he can hitch his way to the airport.
When a flashy sports car stops to give him a lift, Ralph meets Boyd and Patsy; a fast-living couple on their way to Sydney that will change his life forever. Along the way, a police car gives chase, and when it finally catches up to them, Patsy manages to escape unseen while the two men are arrested for drug trafficking (Boyd’s latest enterprise), and taken to the local gaol pending further investigation.
While there, Boyd and Ralph strike up a friendship of sorts, and when Patsy comes to visit, she reveals she has cancer and is going to refuse any treatment. This, amongst other factors, pushes Ralph to make the selfless decision of solely taking the blame for the crime, despite his innocence, so that Boyd can go free to be with Patsy...
Along the way, flash-forwards show the three coincidently united in a recording studio in America. When Ralph plays a song he’s written to Patsy, she sings along, and a sure hit is created between them. The two go on to win over the crowds and success follows with Boyd as a manager, but chance sees an accident fatally met by one of the party…
Sometimes it’s the oddball stories that bring all the more charm to the screen – although ‘charm’ doesn’t really seem to tally with anything Aussie. ‘Charisma’ might be more fitting, and Doing Time For Patsy Cline certainly brings a lot of Australian personality to the screen.
The story has its unexpected turns and consequential circumstances that manage to keep boredom at bay, at least from the point of Ralph and Boyd’s arrest. Pairing the ever-so-cheesy country & western theme with the frank and dark humour that Australian culture revels in is rather out of tune (pun pardoned!), but if the irony in the contrast works for you, the rest of the film should only bring laughs.
When it comes to screenplay, a little more discretion could have been used in the timing of the flash-forwards, as sometimes things get a little confusing rather than create intrigue. The script, however, is one of the redeeming qualities of the film, and if only there was even more humour, it could’ve been a corker, as, occasionally, the comedy is quite subtle and easily overlooked.
It must be near impossible to have a good script with bad characterisation, and so it follows that the colourful characters provide an easy source of entertainment. From Ralph’s parents to the neighbouring cell ‘crims’, each presents an hospitable palette to exhibit that dry sense of humour from down under.
It’s perhaps Richard Roxburgh as Boyd who steals the show when it comes to performances. The part seems to have been written for him, as he bounces off the walls of his cell with all the energy, intensity and creativeness of the optimistic opportunist that Boyd is. Matt Day is also perfectly cast as submissive Ralph in need of some balls, which he nobly obtains, and with fervent conveyance!
While Miranda Otto is a good actress, and she plays the part of forlorn maiden well, her softly whimpering voice as Patsy is a bit annoying…and continual…all the way through the film…to the very…very end, but the surprising juxtaposition in her singing voice brings a little relief.
Of course, a film set in the back lands of Australia encourages the use of good photography, which it achieves; and even shot compositions throughout the gaol scenes are appreciatively thoughtful. Finally, as far as country & western music goes, not much fault can be found in the score that bares the likes of Dolly Parton, Willie Nelson and Emmylou Harris.
Doing Time For Patsy Cline could have been better if the script were richer, and if it had started from about 30 minutes in, as the beginning is quite slow and a bit bewildering as far as establishing what kind of story’s being told. Australian humour with its darkness, dryness, and self deprecation can be one of the funniest and here it doesn’t disappoint, but it leaves the viewer wanting a bit more than they receive. MI
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Film: The Last Rites Of Ransom Pride
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 30th May 2011
Distributor: Revolver
Certificate: 15
Running time: 79 mins
Director: Tiller Russell
Starring: Dwight Yoakam, Lizzy Caplan, Jon Foster, Cote de Pablo, Jason Priestley
Genre: Action/Drama/Western
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Canada
Language: English
Review by: Sarah Hill
The Last Rites Of Ransom Pride is the debut feature film of documentary maker Tiller Russell in which he aims to put a contemporary twist on the western genre. The film, which premiered at the Edinburgh Film Festival in 2010, was filmed in Canada with a modest budget of approximately $8 million.
In Mexico in the 1910s, outlaw Ransom Pride (Scott Speedman) is hunted down and shot after he kills a priest. His lover, Juliette Flowers (Lizzie Caplan), embarks on a mission to bring his body back home to Texas with the help of Ransom’s brother, Champ (Jon Foster).
However, Ransom’s body is being held by a Mexican Bruja (Cote de Pablo), the sister of the man he killed, as recompense, so Juliette offers to buy back Ransom’s body and soul with the blood of his brother. But the Pride brothers’ father, Reverend Pride (Dwight Yoakam), is determined not to let this happen...
Occasionally, a low budget film will overcome its limitations and acquire ‘cult’ status. The Last Rites Of Ransom Pride is not one of those films. The film attempts to establish itself as an edgy and contemporary western through its fast-paced, True Blood-esque opening credits. However, like much of the film, whilst Tiller’s intentions for the opening credits are clear, they miss the mark somewhat and are disorientating rather than impressive.
If the opening titles demonstrate anything about what is to follow, it’s that Tiller has a compulsive fascination with video-style jump cuts. This style of editing would work well if it was used sparingly, but Tiller makes the unusual and frustrating decision to recap the main events of every scene in a quick-fire, condensed form immediately afterwards, making the term ‘flashback’ seem all too literal. Furthermore, these ‘flashbacks’ are sepia-tinted to such an extent that they take on a muddy brown aesthetic. This is coupled with the fact that the scenes which take place in the present look overly grey and grainy. The film subsequently flits between the two aesthetics and, in doing so, prevents any sense of realism. Also, the film’s obligatory shoot-out is edited so frantically that looks more like a self-contained music video as opposed to a scene from a film.
The film’s lack of credibility is compounded by its two-dimensional characters. Bruja the witch doctor seems to remain in a permanent state of seething, spitting anger throughout the film, and the more ‘quirky’ characters such as The Dwarf, whose appearance borrows very heavily from Johnny Depp in the Pirates Of The Caribbean films, are not interesting enough to enable them to become good cult characters.
Lizzie Caplan, as Juliette, gives what is probably the best performance in the film, although this is no doubt aided by the fact that the other performances are very weak. Caplan’s dark and fierce eyes adequately convey Juliette’s determination to bring Ransom home for burial and she is obviously a very strong woman. It is disappointing, therefore, that when given the chance to subvert convention by creating a strong female protagonist, in what is traditionally a very masculine genre, Juliette Flowers is frequently presented as little more than a sex object. She also makes some disappointingly obvious, yet uncharacteristic decisions throughout the film. For example, her decision to embark on a relationship with Ransom’s shy brother is a lazy plot device and arguably a decision that does not befit her character.
As well as being rather obviously plotted, the film’s dialogue is also very clunky and clichéd. When ordering his men to track down and kill Juliette, Reverend Pride says that he doesn’t care what they do to her, but just “make sure she ain’t breathing when you’ve finished.” Similarly, the closing line of the film, a quote from Ransom Pride himself, is equally as banal: “I was always a lover, despite the killings.”
It is clear that The Last Rites Of Ransom Pride wished to be thought of as a subversive western with cult status. However, whilst the film does contain impressive photography on the odd occasion - such as the fairly poetic shots of the sun shining over the plains - its infuriating over-reliance on flashy editing techniques, poor plot, uninspiring characters and clunky dialogue means that the film ruins any potential that it may have had. If the film teaches us anything, it’s that there is a fine line between a ‘cult’ film and a bad film, and, sadly, The Last Rites Of Ransom Pride belongs on the wrong side of that line. SH
Film: Kaboom
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 10th June 2011
Distributor: Artificial Eye
Certificate: TBC
Running time: 86 mins
Director: Gregg Araki
Starring: Thomas Dekker, Haley Bennett, Chris Zylka, Roxane Mesquida, Juno Temple
Genre: Comedy/Horror/Mystery/Sci-Fi
Format: DVD
Country of Production: USA/France
Language: English
Review by: Anna Attallah
Written and directed by veteran of the New Queer Cinema scene Gregg Araki, this LSD infused slice of science fiction won the first ever Queer Palm award at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival. Having made his name tackling shocking subjects (from drugs, kinky sex and Neo-Nazis in his Teenage Apocalypse Trilogy to child sexual abuse in the critically acclaimed Mysterious Skin), Araki now branches out into underground cults and conspiracy theories in the psychedelic college comedy Kaboom.
Smith (Thomas Dekker) is a typical college student – or, more precisely, what a typical college student wishes they were: a person whose degree constitutes zero studying and a hundred percent hard partying. His days are spent lusting after his surfer roommate, Thor, and hanging out with his sardonic best friend, Stella (Haley Bennett). So far so ordinary, until Smith receives a postcard stating he is “the chosen one” and people from his dreams disconcertingly start popping up in his waking life.
These include Stella’s lesbian love interest, Lorelei (Roxanne Mesquida), a witch with rejection issues (don’t ask), and an ethereal redhead who introduces herself by vomiting on Smith’s shoes at a party. After ingesting a drug-laced cookie, Smith heads off to have technicolour sex with a voracious man-eater named London (Juno Temple). When she kicks him out of her room, he and the mysterious red-headed girl are chased by strange men in animal masks through the college grounds. The girl is brutally stabbed in the head, but when Smith wakes up alone, he isn’t sure if this escapade was real or simply a very bad trip.
It transpires that the red-headed girl is named Madeleine and she is involved with a secret underground cult called the ‘New Order’. Unbeknownst to Smith, his involvement with this cult is a lot closer to home than he realises. It is only when his friends and family start disappearing that Smith discovers time is running out not just for himself, but for the whole world...
It is clear that this is a film which is going through a serious identity crisis. Is it an irreverent comedy tackling teenage angst, a journey of sexual discovery, a horror film, or a tense thriller? Araki seems to have given up on trying to weave these different styles together and instead has just thrown them all at the screen and hoped for the best, resulting in a film that seems far too amateurish for someone who is directing their tenth feature. Although Araki’s sense of fun and unpretentious attitude shine through, it’s hard not to get the feeling that he is trying to do a Donnie Darko, but falling short.
Firstly, there are the endless “Am I awake or am I dreaming?” sequences which are meant to blur fact and fiction, but, in the end, only serve to make the viewer switch off, as inevitably the scene they are watching usually ends in Smith gasping and spluttering as he wakes. The chaotic conspiracy theory sub-plot also suffers from a lack of development; it is simply tacked on at the end in a slap-dash manner which seems to leave the characters just as confused as the audience. The mystery of Madeleine and Smith’s involvement in the cult is revealed seemingly in the space of twenty minutes, where Smith can barely keep up with the speed of events he is being forced to explain and the camera jerkily jumps from one unlikely link to the other.
The disordered structure isn’t helped by the fact that Araki uses every horror cliché in the book, with enough “he’s-behind-you!” moments to rival the number of scenes where characters start awake. In one scene in particular, Stella is forced to defend herself when her one time lover, Lorelei, turns murderous. The fact that Lorelei is a witch with supernatural powers gives endless scope for paranormal creepiness, but their exchange simply descends into a bland parody of the Wizard Of Oz, with Lorelei being defeated by water from the bathroom tap. Araki does occasionally produce some genuine tension, particularly when Smith is running for his life from the animal-masked members of the New Order, but hardcore horror fans will barely raise an eyebrow at most throughout.
Despite some dubious material, the cast take it all in their stride, with Thomas Dekker giving a sincere performance which captures the vulnerability of adolescence. Juno Temple is also worth a mention as she navigates her way through countless X-rated on-screen orgasms as if she’s been doing it all her life, confidently playing a part that would have been too out-there for many other young actresses to handle.
Apart from a great cast, Araki has also chosen the perfect soundtrack to compliment this off-beat adventure, with songs from popular Indie bands such as the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and The xx to angsty favourites Placebo.
Although his efforts to charm the teenage audience he represented back in the 1990s seem forced, it is when he is in full college comedy mode that Araki is at his best, with some genuinely funny dialogue and sharp observations of college existence mostly courtesy of Hayley Bennett’s expert deadpan delivery. Nevertheless, you can’t help coming away wishing he’d ditched the senseless pseudo science fiction and stuck to his strengths.
Kaboom is refreshingly raw; a neon coloured foray into sex and sci-fi which doesn’t take itself too seriously. The script sparkles with some snappy one-liners and there is plenty of good-looking flesh on show, but even this cannot save the film from a clumsy plot which goes into chaotic overdrive as the sex gets increasingly weirder, the explanations get increasingly improbable, and the film collapses under its own ridiculousness. AA
Film: Needle
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 13th June 2011
Distributor: High Fliers
Certificate: 18
Running time: 90 mins
Director: John V. Soto
Starring: Tahyna Tozzi, Jane Badler, Travis Fimmel, Michael Dorman, Ben Mendelsohn
Genre: Drama/Horror/Mystery
Format: DVD
Country of Production: Australia
Language: English
Review by: Kevin Ilett
John V. Soto follows his debut, the 2009 mystery thriller Crush, with another Australian feature, the supernatural horror film Needle. The flick won a best makeup gong at LA’s Screamfest 2010, followed by a few more awards at the British Horror Film Festival.
The film will win no awards for its storyline, however. Set on a university campus, seemingly populated entirely by mumbling, confused-looking Calvin Klein models, the plot focuses on the mysterious deaths surrounding Marcus (Travis Fimmel), his love interest Mary (Tahyna Tozzi) and his friends: the jock, the nerd, the black guy and the sexy lesbian couple.
As each member of the group is killed off in bizarre circumstances, Marcus must uncover the truth around a supernatural death box (think the Lemarchand boxes in Hellraiser) which appears to be at the centre of the mystery and the re-emergence of Marcus’ suspicious, estranged brother Ben (Michael Dorman). As Marcus gets closer to the killer, he must also travel deeper into the darkest parts of his family history…
Horror has always been a genre with self-esteem issues. Ridiculed and reviled in equal measure by the mainstream, it’s an industry which is nevertheless a fertile breeding ground for potential talent. Inexperienced teams can obtain funding and distribution for their horror project because, if it ticks certain boxes, there will always be a market for the product. Horror films sell on the promise of sex and violence (in other words, basic human needs).
Whilst this offers fantastic opportunities for new talent to gain experience, the market is flooded with films so remarkably, so blandly average, because you don’t need a good idea to get your film made. Expectations are so low in horror that bad films win awards and critical faculties are repressed or even rendered irrelevant. Needle is a good example of such low standards. There’s such a void of originality displayed here, such an amateurish level of acting and production that in any other genre Needle would never have come even close to existence.
Needle is essentially a US-aping teen slasher, with the gimmick being that instead of a masked madman killer, we have a wooden box voodoo doll being operated by an unseen antagonist. The main problem here is that this motif removes all potential excitement, tension and surprise from proceedings. No-one gets chased, no-one jumps out at anyone, there are no iconic killer visuals and no opportunities for the victim to fight back. All the killer has to do is insert a photograph of his victim into the box, stab a doll a few times and, hey presto, job done.
Now, if you’re going to go with such a dull, predictable and unoriginal premise, there are still avenues open to the clever horror director to raise the film above the mire. Firstly, the film could rely on an ironic tone, with witty, knowing dialogue, tongue-in-cheek twists and clever nods to older, better films. Admittedly, this approach was already overdone by the time Scream 2 came out in 1997, but it can still raise the odd smile during a bad film. Unfortunately, Needle is utterly straight-faced (apart from a cameo by John Jarrat as a heavy-drinking coroner) and entirely humourless; its serious tone jarring absurdly with the ridiculous plot and terrible acting.
The other redeeming feature could have been the kills, an area of potential artistry, imagination and delicious invention. A bad horror film’s sins will always be forgiven by fans if there are fun kills to be had, but, again, Needle falls short. Despite winning the aforementioned makeup award, there is nothing special or inventive to be found here, just dullness repeated.
The only strand of interest to be found in Needle is in Michael Dorman’s portrayal of Ben, Marcus’ mysterious brother. Dorman plays the unhinged forensic photographer with a wild abandon and off-kilter glee, a cross between Nic Cage’s Bad Lieutenant and a stoned surfer dude. Ben’s bizarre and inappropriate behaviour is never explained and this idiosyncrasy, whether intentional or not, is strangely amusing.
Apart from Dorman, however, there’s a real lack of verve to be found in Needle. The acting is predictably wooden, but it often appears that they’re not even trying. Whole sequences are mumbled in an offhand, embarrassed fashion, potential subplots are forgotten or ignored and the denouement is offensively stupid even for a film this bad.
Needle is a poor film, which will be quickly forgotten. Its mild success up to this point is a damning indictment of the inexistent standards in the horror industry. KI
Film: Direct Contact
Year of production: 2009
UK Release date: 13th June 2011
Distributor: Lionsgate
Certificate: 18
Running time: 90 mins
Director: Danny Lerner
Starring: Dolph Lundgren, Gina May, Michael Paré, Bashar Rahal, James Chalke
Genre: Action/Thriller
Format: DVD
Country of Production: USA/Germany
Language: English/Bulgarian
Review by: Daryl Wing
A quick flick through perennial tough guy Dolph Lundgren’s back-catalogue makes for depressing reading. Superior movies like Masters Of The Universe (1987) and Rocky 4 (1985) are few and far between - even The Expendables (2010) and Universal Solider (1992) are standouts. Where did it all go wrong for this 1980s action hero? Or did it all go wrong? His films (47 and counting) may not be appreciated by an audience force-fed by Michael Bay, but he’s still doing what he does best. With The Expendables reviving interest in his career, Lionsgate Home Entertainment have decided to release 2009’s Direct Contact, in which Lundgren ditches his trademark scowl and plays the good guy, but does he still have the power?
Mike Riggins (Lundgren), an imprisoned ex-Special Forces operative in Eastern Europe, is offered his freedom (and lots of cash) to rescue an American woman, Ana Gale (Gina May), who has been kidnapped by a ruthless warlord.
Shortly after freeing her, Mike discovers that the kidnap story was just a ruse to bring Ana out into the open. Riggins suddenly finds himself and his feisty charge being hunted by ruthless government and underworld organizations - all who want him dead and the mysterious Ana under their control.
With no-one to turn to, and the enemies closing in, Mike must uncover the truth about Ana, gain her trust, and bring her to the safety of the US Embassy…
Arriving nearly two decades too late, Direct Contact isn’t going to appeal to anyone under the age of 25. Made with very little money, it fails to revel in the spectacle of Transformers (2007), doesn’t have the brains of The Bourne Identity (2002), and isn’t as much fun as either. For those raised on Commando (1985) and Hard Target (1993), however, it will certainly cater for some fleeting, good old-fashioned entertainment, sparing enough time throughout to reminisce about the good ol’ days when your dad would joyously accede to an eighteen-certificate instead of homework.
In today’s climate, it’s impossible to watch Danny Lerner’s actioner without chuckling at the cheapness of it all. But for some, that’s also half the fun. And yet, through it all, Direct Contact cleverly insists on taking itself seriously. It’s a gripping, intensely harrowing film with a solid emotional core, as both the hardened Mike and sympathetic-to-her-captors Ana find the conflict mirroring the transformations occurring within themselves. Or maybe not…
What you do have is a movie with no interest in dimensional characters. A permanent resident in the “worst prison in the world,” Lundgren’s Riggins doesn’t believe in small talk (his American accent more convincing than his real one), has no enthusiasm for anything other than money, but can dodge a speeding bullet and pulverize his foes with considerable, engaging ease. He also struggles to climb into a parked car, but the old-timer is approaching 60 so let’s cut him some slack.
His compatriot, meanwhile, certainly looks the part, but don’t expect any acting fireworks from an almost mute Gina May – leave that to the countless car chases and gun fights that thankfully distract from inflammable cardboard characters and dodgy dialogue (“I don’t care who the hell you are, I’m just damn glad I met you”). May’s performance does improve, but it’s debatable whether even a young Jodie Foster could persuade us that their character has fallen for her new captor quicker than you can say buckle up, and then go on to deliver such a wonderful chat-up line as, “How’s your wound?” with such sincerity. Luckily for her, James Chalke’s support performance as villain Uncle Trent is simply embarrassing.
The only way to enjoy Direct Contact is to embrace its utter nonsense. Revel in the shabby dialogue (“I just happen to have an extra ten grand” and “This guy’s a loose cannon” are up there with the best); and ignore the illogical, as a tank is called in to take down Riggins on a motorcycle, while a guard fails to hear a door slam ten yards away, with the big fella creeping around like a clumsy battle droid in his search for Ana, and the action is sped up to make the motorcycle scenes look that much more dramatic. It also fails with simple back projection techniques (Lundgren’s driving would surely send them into a ditch), and in this day and age, surely it’s cheaper to whack a camera on the bonnet of the car. It certainly disrupts an audience’s ability to suspend disbelief.
But then, the damage has already been done, with a couple of inspired shots: firstly, the aptly named Lerner introduces the classic point of view action sequence, as if we were in fact the motorcycle, terrorizing the unsuspecting public minding their own business on the sidewalks. He dares to do it again, this time the shot taken over the shoulder of a missile launched from the tank, missing its intended target, the bike, by miles. They don’t make them like this anymore. Or, rather, they shouldn’t make them like this anymore.
Sniping aside, Direct Contact is blessed by some decent fight choreography, plenty of half decent car chases and worthy shootouts (the standoff in the football stadium is extremely satisfying), and even surprises with its sporadic brutality. For some reason, the air turns blue after the half hour mark, with characters deciding to unleash the f-word for no other reason than to convince us how angry they are, but there’s still room for Lerner to at least get something right when a car flips over in near-silent slo-mo and then delivers his piece de resistance during the final act when Uncle Trent makes an explosive exit, and Lundgren delivers a truly killer line.
No-one would ever call it good filmmaking, but Direct Contact is old school trash of the first order. In short, this one’s for those raised on Schwarzenegger, Stallone and Seagal; the action is passable, and Lundgren is surprisingly good. Remove a star if you’re under 25. DW
Film: Senna
Year of production: 2010
UK Release date: 3rd June 2011
Distributor: Universal
Certificate: 12A
Running time: 106 mins
Director: Asif Kapadia
Starring: Ayrton Senna, Alain Prost, Frank Williams, Ron Dennis, Viviane Senna
Genre: Documentary
Format: DVD
Country of Production: UK/France/USA
Language: English
Review by: Patrick Gamble
On 1st May 1994, the sporting world lost one of its most charismatic and well-loved personalities in an accident which would resonate around the world. Travelling at a perilous 130mph, Ayrton Senna crashed his Williams-Renault Formula One car into the now infamous Tamburello corner of the San Marino Grand Prix. The collision led to a piece of his suspension flying off the nose of the car and making a devastatingly fatal blow to his helmet. It followed a similar incident during the previous days qualifying heats when Austrian driver Rolan Ratzenberger slammed into the same wall and died instantly. Yet there remains something so endearing, so mesmerising about this flamboyant Brazilian that whilst both their bodies may have been regrettably swept of the track on that fateful spring weekend, Senna’s spirit continues to live on amongst the public consciousness.
Director Asif Kapadia’s documentary of this fallen celebrity focuses on Ayrton Senna’s decade competing in Formula One. We follow his journey from lowly debutant driver for Toelman through his rapid rise up the Formula One Ladder, from Lotus to McLaren (winning the world championship an impressive three times) and, finally, with team Williams, where he would abruptly end his racing career.
We witness his struggles on the track against McLaren team mate and fierce rival Alain Prost (a sideshow which undoubtedly created an unparalleled buzz around a sport not normally followed for its personal confrontations), to the off track world of rigid politics, advanced motoring technology and ludicrous financial endorsements that many, including Senna, believe removed any true sense of competitiveness from the sport long ago.
However, Senna isn’t a documentary about Formula One but rather an intimate portrait of a global superstar who staunchly stuck to his views and refused to play by anyone else’s rules. A humble celebrity who remained fiercely patriotic and charitable to his impoverished homeland, and stood not only as a spokesman for his sport, but an ambassador for everything a celebrity should be…
The film’s most significant achievement has to be the vast range of footage that director Kapadia has managed to lay his hands on (impressively convincing Bernie Ecclestone to open the private video vaults of the Formula One archives). From intimate family films to on board driver cameras, the depth of material on show invites us into not just the professional side of Senna’s life but also his private world. Like the most intricate jigsaw puzzle, it’s all wonderfully and lovingly pieced together to create a seamless flow between scenes, making the viewer feel more a part of the story than simply a fly on the wall. We witness the hard work Senna put into helping poor Brazilian children, the close knit, down to earth family unit he would escape to, and his constant professional conflicts regarding the political bureaucracy of his sport.
Unlike your archetypal sporting documentary, Senna has no single narrator, instead using personal testimonies sparingly with the majority of the film’s story being told by Senna himself from archived sound bites, press conferences and interviews. It gives the film a haunting quality, which creates an existential aroma around it, making the viewer feel like they’re on an incredibly personal journey with this fascinating and deeply spiritual man. There’s also none of the clichéd ‘talking head’ segments we’re used to from such documentaries, which often interrupt a film’s flow and inject too many external and often contradictory opinions. Instead, we are very much left to make our own opinions, deciding on our view of this racing car driver purely from witnessing his work and hearing him speak, as opposed to being dictated by what others say about him. This touchingly honest approach is achieved not through the director’s sure-handed guidance, but from Senna himself. Rarely are we presented with such a humble, shy but equally entertaining sports man - a man who clearly loves what he does far more than the fame and money that often accompanies (and corrupts this kind of monumental sporting success). This provides us with an opportunity to witness his contagiously optimistic and passionate personality as it positively radiates out from the screen.
There are many who believe this approach to documentary filmmaking is unnecessarily intrusive and crosses the line of personal privacy. The final twenty-five minutes of the film focuses on the inevitable ending – the incident of the San Marino Grand Prix. It has been argued that we could have been spared the in-car footage of Senna’s final moments, with many seeing this as an invasive, personal intrusion that leans towards gross voyeurism. However, this is a complement to the film’s ability to propel us into Senna’s world, making us susceptible to the full emotive force of this tragic accident - it makes this unfortunate outcome as powerfully upsetting as it was all those years ago.
The second act’s focus on Senna’s fierce rivalry with former team mate Alain Prost adds a whole other dimension to the blue print of this documentary, creating a thrilling tale about professional jealousy and conflict between two highly driven, competitive men at the top of their profession. Prost, however, is not our central antagonist, rather an example of how the political game of Formula One should be played. The main villain depicted here is Jean Marie Balestre, the then chief of Formula One. His constant struggles with Ayrton reveal him to be our classic pantomime baddie and their negatively charged relationship drives the narrative forward. This attention to the dramatic sideshow surrounding Senna’s career turns what could have been a painfully formulaic sports documentary into something more akin to a biopic, which, for a little while, creates a whole new narrative that pulls us deeper into this highly secretive world, successfully capturing the pomp and political circumstances of the sport.
The film’s pace is dictated by two important factors, music and editing, which, throughout the movie, combine harmoniously to catalyse the film’s emotional core. Considering the subject matter, the film had to feel fast, full of adrenaline and most importantly exciting – something modern coverage of the sport has failed to capture. The director’s flawless editing manages to combine these varying pieces of stock footage into a seamless collection of shots that moves so effortlessly that the film never loses momentum, only occasionally taking a pit stop to let us catch our breath. The music ranges from feverish Brazilian bossanova to frantic hand drums and all the way to ambient strings, which culminates in an emotional rollercoaster ride, constantly creating an appropriate mood to accompany the images we’re presented with.
This historical record of possibly the most charismatic sportsmen of modern times manages to not only act as a snapshot documenting the history of Formula One but transcends the sport and creates a highly emotive drama that will speak to a wider audience than those with a vested interest in the sport. It’s an exquisitely enjoyable journey that like Senna’s career, feels all too brief. PG
