One of the lesser-known dark chapters of British history was the exodus of a small number of poor, struggling Welsh workers who left their shores to set up a new life in a golden, green land called Patagonia in 1865. Amazingly they survived and carried on their culture, which remains in the form of the huge number of Welsh place names there.

This forms the backbone of Marc Evans’ story, which tells parallel stories set in the present day. A Welsh couple, Gwen and Rhys (Roberts and Gravelle), are suffering because they cannot conceive. When Rhys is offered a job photographing remote chapels in Patagonia he jumps at the chance, seeing it as the perfect chance to repair their fragile relationship. However, when they arrive they are met by handsome Mateo (Rhys), to whom Gwen is clearly attracted – forcing Rhys more into his shell. As Mateo takes the couple further and further into the desert their relationship becomes more strained.

Meanwhile, at the same time, an elderly Patagonian lady, Cerys (Lubos), tells her family she is going into hospital for an eye operation, and needs a young guide. Her very young neighbour, Alejandro, joins her and quickly discovers she has other ideas – Cerys wants to visit the Welsh farm she was born in and barely remembers. He chaperones her all the way to Cardiff, only to discover there are three farms with the same name in Wales, all miles apart from each other. So they, too, have to travel deep into the countryside, taking on broken down cars, bizarre train timetables and incessant rain to find Cerys’ birthplace. Not that the shy Alejandro minds though, especially when he meets the waitress of a camping site in North Wales, Sissy (Duffy).

If this sounds like a gentle, meandering, slow, slightly dreamy fable, well, it is…Evans is in no hurry to tell his story, quite happy instead to indulge in the glorious countryside in both places. Patagonia is a harsh, Spartan land with stunning deserts and mountains, and Wales looks like it’s sponsored  by the Welsh tourist board. Nothing wrong with that, the problem sets in during the last half hour when all of the goodwill Evans has built up wears pretty thin. It’s obvious where the story is going, but he insists on dragging it out to an almost tiresome degree, and suddenly throws in various minor characters, none of whom add much to the tale.

The performances are fine, with one big exception – Roberts and Gravelle make a believable couple, Rhys is a convincing stud – he’s even good on a horse – and the young boy and old lady are a charming, funny couple. The one jarring note is pop star Duffy’s cameo as a singing waitress, a performance which should be added to the long, long list of rock stars who come a cropper in the movies. She’s really out of her depth.

Overall verdict:  If you’re in a forgiving mood and up for an ethereal tale which pootles along at its own pace, Patagonia could be described as charming – otherwise it’s as long and dusty as some of the desert roads featured in the film.

Reviewer: Mike Martin

James Franco is on a roll at the moment, and this is a powerful, fascinating addition to his CV. It’s a relatively little-known story in this country, brilliantly acted, wonderfully put together and ultimately very moving.

Howl was the title of a poem by Beat poet Allen Ginsberg. It was a radical new work that blended the beats’ urgency and immediacy of language with some striking, raw phrases. The publishers were taken to court on its publication in 1957 for obscenity, and the trial forms part – but not all – of the unfolding drama. The film begins in mock-documentary style, with Ginsberg, sensitively played by Franco, doing a long interview looking back at the trial but also his life, and the ideas that formed the poem.

As he slowly reveals his story, which bumps head-on with Jack Kerouac and Neal Cassady, fragments of the poem are read out, and animated – actually rather wonderfully. Franco grasps Ginsberg’s drug-induced, frantic speech patterns, but slows down at the crucial moments to reveal moments of great beauty, charm and wit. Suddenly we cut to the courtroom and hear the trial, with Strathairn the prosecutor, believing the poem is obscene, and Hamm the defender. Hamm is still in Mad Men mode but none the worse for that – he always convinces in those meetings – and Strathairn’s voice alone could hypnotise a jury into convicting.

There is one weak spot here – Ginsberg did not actually attend the trial. As he explains, it’s about freedom of speech, not about him. However he is missed in the courtroom scenes as it dissipates the tension a little.

Really though the film is a story of a man’s life, his struggle with his identity and sexuality, rejection and the excitement of living in New York, captured in poetry. Franco gives an honest performance, and his supporting cast are equally as good. The verdict of the trial may be somewhat predictable, but the film still manages to make the case that this one poem was a hugely important landmark in US publishing history.

Overall Verdict: Mightily impressive drama about an important, if little-known in this country, trial. You’ll be tracking down the poems of Allen Ginsberg minutes after the closing reel.

Reviewer: Mike Martin

After years of establishing themselves as the kings of quirk, the Coens seem to have found a strong mid-period vein of powerful Westerns. If this and No Country For Old Men were put side-by-side it would make a cracking, serious double-bill, but of course the Coens being the Coens they sandwiched in two comedies in between – the wonderfully wacky A Serious Man and the truly disastrous Burn After Reading.

Their decision to remake an old classic makes this something of a departure for them – they usually insist on being original, for good or bad. The Coens claim they went back to the source book for this rather than the John Wayne western, claiming they have only vague memories of the film. There are a couple of giveaways though – in the book there is no mention of Rooster Cogburn having one eye or a patch, while Bridges’ patch is clearly a nod to Wayne. Also one of the shoot-outs is almost shot-for-shot.

This is about as straight a Western as the Coens are ever likely to make, with only a couple of truly quirky moments to remind you who’s at the helm – a bear man emerging from the woods, and a minor character who does animal impressions before being shot 10 minutes later. Apart from that it’s a classic revenge tale, with Steinfeld’s Oscar-nominated Mattie Ross, all 13 years of her, riding into town and hiring washed out Cogburn to bring the killer of her father to justice. He is, of course, a complete soak, shambling, mumbling and bedraggled, but early on we see his sense of justice and duty – he stops Matt Damon’s creepy Laboef from spanking her, sensing something is amiss there.

The three unlikely characters head into ‘Indian country’ to find her father’s killer, Chaney (Brolin), and much of the film is the trio, sometimes just a duo, horse riding through beautiful but bleak scenery, merely trying to survive but driven on by their purpose. It’s more of a road movie than a western at times, punctuated with lots of precisely dated dialogue which is witty, charming and chilling, sometimes at the same time.

At one point Mattie sees a man hanging from a tree, and asks Cogburn why they he was hanged so high – “to make damn sure he was dead” comes the laconic reply. It’s a stately, slow, almost dream-like film at times, with Bridges’ superb, grumbling Cogburn holding the attention and Steinfeld’s Mattie tugging at the heart-strings. She thoroughly deserves her Oscar nomination. It’s a fantastic performance, a slip of a girl whose only weapons are her precise words and knowledge of the law and money. She reduces a local tradesman to a gibbering wreck with her insistence, and similarly rouses Cogburn from his drunken stupor. She also doesn’t hesitate to remind us that she is a mere girl, staring with terrified, wide eyes when Cogburn aims his rifle during a crucial sho0t-out, and is never afraid to be vulnerable. Quite how she is nominated for Supporting Actress is a mystery – she is the narrator of the story at the start and is in virtually every frame. She was nominated for Best Actress at the BAFTAs, which seems more proper.

What is more inevitable is that the great cinematographer Roger Deakins was nominated for his wonderful work, which is bleak but always precise and perfectly framed, much like his work on No Country and The Assassination of Jesse James. Surely he will win – but we’ve said that before. 

Overall verdict:  A powerful, beautifully paced, thoroughly  enjoyable addition to the Coens’ work.

Reviewer: Mike Martin

After Raging Bull, Cinderella Man, Ali, Rocky and many more, does the world need another boxing movie? Especially one that is about redemption for a washed up has-been and his brother? The answer is a huge, massive yes. The Fighter takes boxing as its theme, but actually – boxing fans should be told – contains very few fighting sequences. Instead it’s a wonderfully fresh, complex look at the nightmare of being in a family – especially one where the mother holds sway.

Mark Wahlberg is Mickey Ward, the fighter in question, a struggling athlete who has two battles, his career, which seems to be heading south, and his trailer trash family. Mum Alice (Leo, Oscar-nominated) rules the roost over her nine children, seven of whom are girls who squabble and fight like badly-dressed overweight Barbie dolls. Mickey’s brother Dicky (Bale) is a former champion, a naturally gifted fighter who once put down Sugar Ray Leonard but whose life is now falling apart. He is a crack addict, his skinny, wasted frame and hollow eyes doing nothing more than haunting a local crack house.

Officially he is Mickey’s trainer but his fecklessness, and Alice’s naivety, means Mickey suffers a bad beating when he gets a fight in Las Vegas. On the brink of quitting, Mickey’s life begins to turn around when he meets local barmaid Charlene (Adams), who’s working-class but determined better herself. After a marvellously awkward first date – a trip to see La Belle Epoque no less – they get serious, and Charlene takes on Mickey’s family, insisting he ditch them.

Mickey agrees, and when Dicky ends up in prison the deal seems to be done – Mickey will go to Las Vegas full time to train and leave his family behind. However he soon realises that blood might be thicker than water and he needs Dicky to help him get a crack at the title fight he craves.

THE FIGHTER TRAILER

It’s a classic set-up, but where The Fighter raises itself above the lightweight to punch above its weight is in the script, unusual theme and spot-on detail. All the characters look staple ones on paper but the script refuses to simplify them, insisting that every one acts for a reason, not always rationally. Mickey is a sympathetic character but incapable of seeing himself apart from his family, who are clearly dragging him down, yet his loyalty to his hopeless, crack-addled brother is touching and believable.

It’s to Wahlberg’s huge credit that he is behind the film yet happy to give the show-off part to Bale, who will surely win an Oscar for his marvellous portrayal of a ghost of a man, a former great boxer reduced to a shell of a body, still holding court in his neighbourhood for former glories and capable of helping his brother. It’s a great piece of acting, but Wahlberg is just as good if less showy. Adams too is spot-on, and her argument with Dicky on her porch is a masterpiece of pin-sharp dialogue – funny, sweary, sad and moving all within three minutes.

Dicky’s final speech to Mickey in the film’s last fight sequence is amazing – it’s corny, clichéd yet utterly real and totally inspiring – if it doesn’t move you you’ve seen Rocky too many times.

The film’s design and look is spot-on – everyone wears grubby, cheap clothes, the bars are poorly lit, the gyms sweaty, but the hope is always there in flashes of great beauty.

Overall verdict: You might think you’ve seen enough boxing movies, but make room in your heart for one more – it’s a real heavyweight.

Reviewer: Mike Martin

Ever wondered what Brighton Rock mixed with Quadrophenia with a touch of Godfather would be like? No, neither have I – so quite why we have this frankly weird mixture is a mystery. What’s not so enigmatic is the result – it’s a mess.

Director Rowan Joffe (son of The Mission and Killing Fields helmer, Roland Joffe) has updated Graham Greene’s classic tale of psychosis, seediness and violence and set it in 1964, the year of the mods and rockers Bank Holiday riots on the south coast. Pinkie (Riley) is a weedy member of a gang offering ‘protection’ to the newly-legal betting shops. There is a rival gang in town however, and the film begins with a violent confrontation on the beachfront at night. Pinkie, twice, lacks the bottle for the fight, but when he is cut across the face he changes, hunts down his attacker and beats him to death under the pier.

There is, however, a witness – the fragile, shy, awkward Rose, who holds a slip for the photo of the dead man. Pinkie callously seduces her to keep her quiet, and he seems to have got away with the murder. However he is up against two more enemies, Colleoni (Serkis), the head of the mob who may be prepared to do a deal, and the much more frightening Ida (Mirren), Rose’s kindly, determined employer and friend of the dead man. She can sense Pinkie is a wrong ‘un, and is determined to get him.

It’s such an iconic story and the original 1947 film still looks so good, so do we need an updating of it? The answer is no, virtually everything about this version is wrong. The main problem seems to be the casting, especially Riley. So good in Control, here he is playing a baby-faced psycho – but Riley is neither. Too weedy to be physically threatening, and too good-looking, it’s a wrong-footed performance. When he ‘mods up’, gets onto a scooter and rides along the seafront we’re suddenly in Quadrophenia country, but the device – presumably to hide Pinkie’s violence under the backdrop of the riots – just doesn’t work.

In the book Ida is a brave, determined, lonely and physically plain woman – Mirren is clearly none of these. Far too brassy and glamorous, squeezed into a series of eye-catching outfits, her accent is irritating. Her accomplice, John Hurt as a bookie owner, is similarly off-key, and Serkis, as the Corleoni-style mob boss is just weird – his meeting with Ida is way too polite and lacks any undercurrent.

The one exception to all of this is Riseborough as Rose. Originally it was going to be Carey Mulligan, which would have meant a clean sweep of wrong casting – she is far too cocky and cheeky for the part – but Riseborough is just perfect. Pale, plain and constantly groping for her national health specs, but with a totally believable heart of gold, it’s a brilliant performance that makes everything around her seem even more out of kilter. Her pathetic devotion to Pinkie makes sense, his physical revulsion and Catholic guilt are never adequately expressed. She clearly is a talent to watch, but will hopefully have better chances than this misfire.

Overall verdict: Update of a British classic which gets just about everything wrong. It’s a BBC film and really should have stayed on the small screen.

Reviewer: Mike Martin

Set across three decades and portraying the life of an unlikely (fictional) North American, in this case Canadian, hero born towards the end of the war, Barney’s Version might sound like the new Forrest Gump, but thankfully, proves to be anything but. Indeed, thanks in no small measure to Paul Giamatti giving his best performance since Sideways it will probably go down as one of the most entertaining films of 2011.

We first meet Barney Panofsky at a low point in his life. The producer of a terrible and inexplicably long running TV show, Barney is in a bad place as he approaches old age, drinking almost as much as his namesake in The Simpsons and pursued by renewed accusations concerning his involvement in a murder case many years before. Just as we’re starting to wonder how he got here, we begin to find out, as the film launches into an extended flashback which sees Barney transform from the youthful carefree hellraiser of the early 1970s through three failed marriages into the dejected old man he ultimately becomes. And yes, as with Citizen Kane most of this is revealed in the first few minutes.

With all his flaws so obviously on view, Barney seem a hard character to like. Indeed, were he a real person it’s doubtful we would. The fact that he manages to come across as a loveable rogue is down in no small measure to Paul Giamatti. Doing a largely convincing job of ageing from his early thirties to his late sixties, probably the worst that could be said of his Golden Globe winning performance is that it is perhaps a little too similar to the bookish booze hound he played in Sideways. Both characters have an unfortunate tendency to “drink and dial”, for example, and Giamatti repeats his trick for delivering unnerving maniacal laughter. But it’s still a fine performance.

Barney’s Version Trailer

And he’s not the only one. Rosamund Pike gives a brilliant turn in an eye catching role as the love of Barney’s life, radio star Miriam and Dustin Hoffman is on ever superb comic form as Barney’s father, an elderly Jewish Montreal ex-cop with a knack for precipitating hilariously embarrassing social situations. Minnie Driver (one of a few Brits in the cast) also makes a welcome return to the screen, as the amusing and neurotic Mrs Panofsky Number Two.

Both by turns funny and sad, Barney’s Version isn’t flawless. It takes a little bit too long to get into its stride. Also, despite superficial similarities to the 1990s TV show Due South, the Mountie-themed TV drama Barney works on (O’Malley of the North) seems too appalling to be as successful as it supposedly is. But overall, this captures the ups and downs of a very eventful life, very well.

Overall Verdict: Three marriages, some funerals, oceans of booze and a shooting. A truly entertaining biopic of a man who never existed.

Reviewer: Chris Hallam