The great Michael Haneke has always divided audiences and critics, and he’s done it again. Only this time it’s not uncompromising violence, or his insistence on the disturbing that is so divisive. As the film title suggests, this is a huge leap away from Haneke’s usual style, and into new territory – love, in all of its complications and messiness. It’s very different to Haneke’s work such as White Ribbon, Hidden, Funny Games or Benny’s Video, but Amour burrows itself into your head and stays there for a long time.

The story is remarkably straightforward. An elderly couple, Georges and Anne, are living a quiet life in a comfortable flat in Paris. They are retired music teachers, with a daughter, Eva, who is married to an Englishman. One day Anne has a mild stroke, frightening Georges who insists she goes to the hospital. They operate unsuccessfully, and a further stroke follows, paralysing Anne down her right side.

Eva blusters back into the couple’s life, insisting that they ‘have a serious chat’ and ‘do something’ but for all the talk of homes and specialist care, Georges does what he has done all of his life – look after his wife. He never complains, he never asks for sympathy, and neither does she. A nurse helps Georges out, but when he disastrously hires a second helper she frightens Anne and Georges fires her.

That’s about it in terms of the plot, but Haneke’s skill is in setting up a shot and holding it for so long you are forced to look harder. Lesser directors would cut away, Haneke is happy to show Georges reading to Anne, or brushing her hair, or drinking tea, for what seems like an interminable time. The effect is the cumulative power of what it is to live with someone you love deeply but seeing them fade slowly away.

Set almost exclusively in the apartment, Haneke never resorts to tricks. The only ‘relief’ in the slow decline portrayed is a strange sequence featuring a pigeon that keeps flying into the flat through an open window, and a brief, terrifying dream sequence. Visually there is one sequence of a series of beautiful outdoor scenes – raging seas, blue skies, lush trees – but it’s merely a series of close-ups of the paintings in the couple’s flat.

There are hints at the beauty of the outside world – the film starts with the couple at a concert, and Anne’s former pupil pays a visit and treats her to a blast of Beethoven on the piano. However later, when he sends a critically acclaimed CD, she turns it off – perhaps because it’s too beautiful?

Amour is certainly a tough watch, but with none of the lecturing Haneke was guilty of in Funny Games – that was a violent film, then one character lectures the viewer on the wrongs of screen violence. Instead it suggests a deeper understanding of what it is to be married, and to watch your partner fade in front of your eyes. It’s a profound film, which proves that Haneke is certainly no one trick pony – and that can only be a good thing.

Overall verdict: Tough, disturbing but ultimately rewarding portrayal of old age and decay, with two central performances that will steal your heart away. Uncompromising but compelling – it’s not a feelgood film like Untouchables was but it’s equally powerful and memorable.

Reviewer: Mike Martin

There was a time when Ben Affleck’s career was heading down a WC with the flush on full power, but for whatever reason he has decided to stop being a big-headed film star in dumb movies and start realising his genuine talent. This political thriller is a perfect vehicle for his understated performance, and he directs with skill and complete conviction. The result is one of the best thrillers of the year – and miles away from the disasters of Daredevil and the appalling Gigli.

Argo is part Hollywood satire and part 1970s-style political thriller – a difficult balance to hit but somehow Affleck pulls it off completely. On one level it’s a straightforward rescue thriller, but the Hollywood theme of the story gives it a lightness of touch – Affleck never overdoes the satire or the thriller aspect.

Based on a true story, it sees the big man as Tony Mendez, a CIA officer called in to help after the US Embassy in Iran is stormed by the military in 1979. Six US embassy workers manage to escape and hide out in the basement of the Canadian Embassy, but time is ticking. Despite frenzied efforts to destroy paperwork, it’s only a matter of time before the Iranian military work out that six workers are missing, and before the shreds of paper that made up their passport pictures are pieced together.

The US decide on a rescue mission, but can’t decide on the best cover story – crop inspectors are no good as snow is on the ground, English teachers are no good as the school has been shut down. The best idea – the only idea – is from Mendez, who says if they make a fake Hollywood movie they can pretend the six are a film crew looking for locations.

It can only work if the film is actually put into early production, so Mendez has to find a script, director and producer. Enter Arkin as a washed up but still spiky director, Goodman as a pushy producer, and Argo, a terrible script written by a hack but with all the right elements – sci-fi locations, bad actors, awful costumes. It’s here that Affleck could let rip if he wanted to, to show how truly bad Hollywood films end up getting made, but he never overdoes it. Arkin has one line summing the idea up: ‘You want us to lie about making a film? Everyone in Hollywood lies!’, and he then leaves it at that.

The film then becomes a tense political thriller, as Mendez flies to Tehran, and preps the nervous six workers in their pretend roles as filmmakers. They are unconvinced to say the least, but admit he’s their only option. The tension is ratcheted up notch by notch to almost unbearable levels, but always convincingly. The housemaid at the Canadian embassy starts to wonder if something is wrong, kids in a sweatshop piece together photos from shredded paper, the military is moving in. A scene where the ‘film crew’ are invited to scout for locations goes horribly wrong, but even here Affleck allows himself a nice joke – the ‘cameraman’ is looking through his lensfinder the wrong way.

By the final act, with Affleck trying to get his six charges through passport control, the tension is almost unbearable, even though we know the outcome. Affleck’s clever scheme is to surround himself with actors who have little star value but are just perfect for each role. Arkin enjoys himself hugely as the old director, and Goodman is perfect as his larger than life producer, but the six embassy workers are admirably understated. Affleck himself is quite superb, never allowing himself to be overly heroic, always understated and desperately trying to keep his nervousness under control. A simple handshake is all the celebration he allows himself – the only question is why did he allow himself to make such terrible movies 10 years ago? If he had made movies like this then he’s have a fine body of work by now.

Overall verdict: Cracking political thriller and entertaining Hollywood satire, with Affleck on top form in a project which fits his talents perfectly. More like this please, Ben.

Reviewer: Mike Martin

Keep The Lights On comes to the UK after an incredibly well-received run on the festival circuit and very strong reviews for its US release. So does it live up to the hype that’s suggested this is the gay-themed film of the year? It pretty much does.

There’s been a lot of comparisons between last year’s Brit flick Weekend and Keep The Lights On. There are indeed quite a few similarities between the movies, even if one takes place over two days and the other 10 years. They share a similar tone and style, so that rather than a traditional narrative it’s like peeping in on two gay people’s lives, almost documentary style. They also share the fact that while for years most gay-themed films have centred on issues of identity, both Weekend and Keep The Lights on are about living a gay life once those questions have largely been settled.

The film is about Erik (Thure Lindhardt), a Dane living in New York, and his relationship with Paul (Zachary Booth). They meet when Paul is still living a straight life, but what starts as a hook-up develops into an all-consuming passion. However as Paul get ever deeper into drugs, cracks inevitably begin to appear in their relationship. The strains mount until there seems no way forward, but over the course of a decade, Erik finds it difficult to completely sever ties with Paul, who he can’t deny he still loves, despite the fact they may not be good for one another.

It’s not an easy film. In fact the movie’s default state is two people desperately reaching for happiness but looking for it in the wrong places. This inevitably leads to discontent and sorrow. Although that sounds depressing, Keep The Lights On draws you in by ensuring the characters are always understandable. While Paul’s descent into drugs is a well-worn movie path, Erik is more unusual. He’s a very relatable, ordinary man who just wants love and togetherness, and thinks he’s found that with Paul. However when everything starts to go wrong, he can’t completely put the relationship behind him. He wants to help his lover and despite the pain and sorrow Paul’s problems cause, he can’t give up on the hope that they can recapture what they once had, and that Paul can be the person he wants him to be. Indeed it ends up with Erik as addicted to the idea of Paul as Paul is to drugs.

Even those who haven’t had a relationship with a drug addict will find a lot to relate to in Keep The Lights On. Many will know the pain of being in a relationship that’s not working, but where you still love the other person and think if you can just sort a few things out, everything will be okay.

Casual moviegoers may struggle with the film as it doesn’t have the sort of tidy story arc we’re used to. It dips in and out of Erik’s life, things happen that we’re not privy to, and life goes on even if the camera can’t catch every minute of 10 years. The film is based on one of director Ira Sach’s own relationships, and while it’s been fictionalised and the actors allowed to bring their own ideas to the movie, it still has the feel of peeping into the painful, intimate moments of someone else’s life. And like life, there aren’t neat plot points and an obvious set of obstacles that can be neatly overcome for a nice syrupy ending.

It is a heart-breaking film that feels real and will make many ponder the difficulties they’ve faced in their own romantic life, especially if they’ve ever been touched by drugs. There are moments when it all feels a bit too studied and as if it’s repeating itself, but these are minor issues amidst a movie that’s surprisingly moving and feels like it’s getting at a truth that’s rarely dealt with like this on screen. It also helps that Thure Lindhardt gives an absolutely riveting and incredibly open performance as Erik, which really pulls you into his life.

Keep The Lights On may not be a film for the casual moviegoer, who will likely find it difficult get into due to its lack of easy handles, but for those looking for something a little deeper and more mature, it’s worth seeking out.

Overall Verdict: A grown-up, sad and moving film about the way love can be pulled apart by addiction and the difficulty of moving on. It’s a gay film that’s not about what it means to be gay, but what it is to live a gay life.

Reviewer: Tim Isaac

The Master will be screened exclusively at the Odeon West End from November 2nd on a 70mm print, before going nationwide on November 16th.

It’s been five long years since Anderson’s extraordinary There Will Be Blood, so his follow-up had better be worth it. Thankfully it is. The Master is an extraordinary work which will linger long in the memory, just like its predecessor, and will also take about as long to reveal what it is really about. It’s an enormous puzzle, but one that will almost certainly dominate the Oscar nominations, and for once the hype is worth it.

It’s impossible to avoid the comparison with the fictional story and the life of L Ron Hubbard, founder of Scientology, so I won’t even try. Philip Seymour Hoffman is Lancaster Dodd, the leader of a cult-like group who believe the earth is trillions of years old, that he can cure cancer by his subjects getting in touch with their last lives, and other completely loony theories. His books are rambling, pseudo-scientific nonsense. He is also charismatic, likeable, energetic and a paradigm of American life with his lovely wife (Amy Adams) and obedient children.

His nemesis arrives in the form of Freddie (Joaquin Phoenix), a former US Marine who fought in the Pacific theatre and survives the war an utterly broken man. He is an alcoholic, brewing his own lethal potions, as well as being an appalling sex addict, even becoming aroused by a sandcastle his fellow marines construct on the beach in the shape of a voluptuous woman. They see it as a huge joke, he appears to take it far more seriously – this is a damaged man with a strong body but shattered mind.

After drifting around various manual jobs he stows away on a boat, which turns out to be where Dodd is hosting his daughter’s wedding. The two very different men seem to bond, and Dodd’s procedures – a cross between hypnosis and mental bullying – appeal to Freddie, who gets himself deeper and deeper into the cult.

While Dodd is, on the outside, a confident fraudster, cracks start to appear that Freddie refuses to acknowledge. Dodd’s own son admits ‘he’s making this shit up as he goes along’, while his bored daughter places her hand on his knee. Freddie however is fiercely loyal, beating up anyone who dares to doubt the master’s teachings and letting Dodd walk all over him despite his physical superiority.

To say any more about the story would spoil it. Suffice to say it plays out in a way that is never predictable and always exhilarating, and the actors can take a huge credit for that. Apparently Hoffman improvised many of his speeches, and it works – Dodd and Freddie have a series of hugely powerful scenes, almost physical in their intensity, with both men wary of the other but seemingly desperate for what the other can provide. Dodd is a fraud and a trickster, apparently charming but losing his cool when challenged, especially in a key scene early on with a sceptic.

It’s a performance of enormous depth and subtlety, with Hoffman using all of his powers – when losing an argument he simply shouts louder than his accuser. It is easily matched by Phoenix, who gives a simply breathtaking portrayal of a broken man, almost child-like but capable of terrible physical violence. His treatment of the women characters is appalling, yet he is still clearly likeable, such is his inner pain. Watching his scenes with Hoffman is like watching a heavyweight boxing match, each man bringing out the strengths and weaknesses of the other, and it’s also very intimate. One theory of the many that are sure to emerge about what The Master is actually about is sure to be it’s a homoerotic tale between two men who cannot live without each other, but equally cannot understand what makes the other tick.

Huge praise should go to the cinematographer and designer, the film looks utterly superb, filmed on the rare 65mm stock and transferred over. The colours shimmer and shine, the clothes are fantastic and each frame is spot-on. Jonny Greenwood, who wrote the jarring score to There Will Be Blood, also provides an equally unsettling aural world here, which fits in perfectly.

Overall verdict: An epic masterpiece which will bore itself into the subconscious and stay there for a very long time. Superbly played, wonderful to look at and genuinely creepy, it’s sure to dominate the awards ceremonies around the world, and deservedly so. It will reward multiple viewings for years to some.

Reviewer: Mike Martin

Clowns have a had a lot of bad press as far as the cinema and TV is concerned. Coulrophobia (an irrational fear of clowns) has obviously been fuelled over the years by the likes of Pennywise from Stephen Kings It, John Wayne Gacy (notorious serial killer) and the clown from Poltergeist. And let’s not forget Ronald McDonald – that one puts a shiver down my spine! The image of a clown has been somewhat tarnished over the years and Stitches does nothing to help improve that image – Max Clifford anyone???

So back to Stitches. Comedy and horror is a hybrid genre that generally does not work for me. Yes, there have been a few classics over the years such as Braindead and Shaun of the Dead, but the bulk of these films fail miserably as they try and fuse two opposing senses – fear and fun – together in often disastrous ways.

Stitches Grindle (played brilliantly by Ross Noble – who has experience in this area as he worked as a children’s entertainer) is a very gruff, disillusioned clown. In the first scene he is having intercourse, smoking a cigarette with a female saying ‘F*ck me clown’, and this sets the scene for the film as he rushes, cursing, to a children’s party without even washing his hands! As with most vengeance films, it comes as no surprise that the events of the party have huge repercussions for the victims six years later, so do your calculations. Tommy, played well by Tommy Knight (Sarah Jane Adventures) is still traumatised since his 10th Birthday party, and is tricked into having a 16th Birthday party, Needless to say, many of those who attended the first birthday party are slain one by one, ‘a la clown style’. Some of these scenes are genuinely funny but quite gruesome, just to warn you.

The film works well, with nods to Mr Jelly (Reece Shearsmith in Psychoville) and a sense of humour very similar to The League Of Gentlemen. Ross Noble excels in a role he was born to play, as he picks off characters one by one with the help of his red nose. The children all appear very natural in their roles, not the glossed up victims we normally get in most horror films, but kids with normal issues, spots, girlfriend problems, bullying and popularity issues. The one liners are funny, there are good characters – including the hilariously named Monster Munch Mary – and look out for Stitches on the tricycle and the ice cream scoop scene….Yuk!

Overall Verdict: Director Conor McMohan manages to fuse horror and humour well. The comic timing is excellent, the humour is very dark and dry, we care about the characters, and most of all we have a mass killer akin to Freddie Kruger, who slaughters teenagers and yet we still have an affinity with him.

Reviewer: Stephen Sclater

 

Beretta, Rocket and Blondie are three sexy psychopaths on the run with a pile of stolen cash, leaving a blood-soaked trail of corpses in their wake. Taking refuge in an almost deserted fishing village, they come across teenager Hannah and her grandfather Joseph, who warns them to stay out of the water. Not being girls who take kindly to being told what to do they ignore him, unaware that their actions will awaken something deadly out in the depths of the ocean.

There are hundreds, probably thousands, of trashy low budget flicks out there whose shoddy production values and lack of pretence about producing something cheap and exploitative can result in an hour and a half of something that won’t ever be mistaken for high art, but still remains utterly entertaining. Then there are ones which are just plain bad, the lack of effort put into attempting to craft something worthwhile comes through in the final result, ending up with something that just feels like a waste of your time. If you’re not a fan of such low budget trash you may not be aware that such a distinction even exists, but trust me, it’s there.

Monstro, sadly, is one of the latter of these two. The enjoyably bad/just plain bad is a difficult balance to strike, especially when you’re setting out to deliberately traverse it. To pluck out a high-profile example, Robert Rodriguez’s Planet Terror worked because it was a loving homage to grindhouse flicks as opposed to a parody of them, whereas Monstro is merely the most basic plotline stretched too far beyond its already brief running time. There are few memorable occurrences other than curvy, tattooed bad girls gratuitously frolicking in the sea. If nothing else, judging by several lingering camera shots we can be sure that director Stuart Simpson is an ass man.

In any kind of horror, the key is populating it with characters you can at least empathise with. Other than being deranged killers, our three anti-heroines possess little in the way of identifiable personalities or reasons to care about what happens to them. That none of the girls possess much individuality could be seen as indicative of their unbreakable camaraderie, but in all honesty it’s more likely to be lazy scriptwriting, while much of their behaviour merely jumps back and forth between idle threats of violence laced with unimaginative profanity and pseudo-sapphic interplay. Joseph and Hannah are more recognisable human beings, but it’s only with the latter that any attempt at character development is made. The (entirely male) rest of the cast are little more than walking erections with IQ scores in the vicinity of their chest size, whose sole purpose is to be killed gruesomely by stop-motion tentacles.

The lack of pacing and anything much resembling an actual story means that the whole experience is over fairly quickly, but you’ll still be left with the feeling of what the point of it all was.

Overall Verdict: Monstro seems to start out mimicking Russ Meyer before taking a detour into early Sam Raimi, but without the self-aware sense of humour of either. If you’re looking to augment your collection with modern-day B-movies, you can do a lot better than this.

Special Features:
Acid Spiders Short Film
Sickie Short Film
Crew Commentary
Cast Commentary
Behind the Scenes
Cast Interviews
Deleted Scenes
Trailer

Reviewer: Andrew Marshall