There is an almost unlimited list of items to praise about Denis Villeneuve’s follow-up to 2021’s “Dune: Part One”, but we must start somewhere.
Fans of the director’s 2016 masterful slow-burn, “Arrival”, will appreciate Villeneuve’s ability to give imposing physicality to large-scale objects sitting in vast areas of land. In “Arrival”, viewers only truly experienced this via a single mysterious spaceship floating above the ground in Montana, but its intimidating presence was undeniable.
In the world-extending “Dune: Part Two”, Villeneuve and his team take this up several notches, impressively presenting their vision for a diverse range of spacecraft and machinery, including things that fly, things that dig and things that kill. This imagination and creativity, supported by unerring sound mixing, contributes to an immersive cinematic experience that won’t soon be forgotten.
Of course, none of this would matter in the absence of a strong story. Fortunately, “Dune: Part Two” builds sumptuously upon the foundations laid in the first film, with change aplenty for Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) to endure. The death of his father and the end of his house at the hands of the grotesque Harkonnens have left him with no option but to learn the ways of the Fremen, the blue-eyed natives of the desert planet Arrakis. Aided by the self-interested efforts of his mother, Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson), Paul fights for acceptance amongst the Fremen, always aware through his visions that his actions may have a devastating impact on Arrakis and beyond.
One of the most interesting aspects of this film is its perspectives on religion and mythology. To the zealots among the Fremen, Paul is the Lisan al Gaib, the messiah that will lead them to paradise. To the others, including love interest Chani (Zendaya), he is a false prophet. Villeneuve goes to great lengths to examine the merits of both sides, as well as the toll leadership can take when thrust upon someone so young.
After a ferociously entertaining opening, Villeneuve slows the pace, but there are several scenes scattered throughout the film’s runtime that should induce awe and admiration. Paul’s attempts to learn to harness the power of the terrifying sandworms, as well as the violent introduction of Austin Butler’s Feyd-Rautha, are just two examples.
If there are limitations to “Dune: Part Two”, they lie in the challenge of being the middle film of a trilogy. Not only does it have to tell its own story, it has to connect to the threads of what came before and what will come after. As such, the latter part of the film drags in parts, as Villeneuve sets up the conflicts that will determine the series’ conclusion.
Of course, all should be forgiven due to the scale, style, score, and spectacle we have been gifted. Not since “The Two Towers” has such a boundless universe been realized so remarkably. If the third instalment can match the quality of its predecessors, “Dune” will join “The Lord of the Rings” films in exalted company.
Genius. Traveller. Entrepreneur. Philanthropist. Ever since the print release of Roald Dahl’s 1964 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, every one of these qualities has been highlighted in each iteration of the character of Willy Wonka, from Gene Wilder’s engaging yet quietly threatening version to Johnny Depp’s kooky and slightly disturbing interpretation.
Here, with Timothée Chalamet donning the familiar purple robe, top hat, and cane, we see the wide-eyed, uncynical, and unflappable Wonka, imbued with so much hope and optimism that you may need a visit to the dentist after you absorb the saccharine sentiments he spouts throughout his 100 minutes on screen.
But let’s get one thing straight: Wonka is a lovely movie. In a post-Christmas world, this is a film that will lift your spirits and give you the sugar rush that only a satisfying trip to the big screen can provide. Such is Chalamet’s Wonka’s zest for life and passion for positivity, even those most foisted upon by the January blues will have their hard hearts melted.
Though it might be hard to believe, Wonka is even more fantastical than any of its predecessors. In this almost-an-origin story, the titular character arrives in a city most akin to Victorian London, seeking to make his fortune after seven years at sea. However, such is the enchantment on show, it is safer to assume that the events of Wonka take place in an alternate universe, where magic and impromptu musical numbers are parts of daily life.
In fact, it is important to point out that this film is far more of a musical than its 1971 and 2005 counterparts. The songs here are similar to those in other recent musical successes, such as The Greatest Showman: romping, stomping numbers that both progress and elevate the story being told.
Including a gleeful cast, notably the wonderfully villainous pair of Olivia Colman and Tom Davis, as well as the delightfully devious Paterson Joseph (playing Wonka’s nemesis, Slugworth), the run-time zips by, with barely a breath taken between each act.
It will come as no surprise to those that have seen director Paul King’s other works, particularly the Paddington films, that there is little-to-no time for negativity, nor insight into how the character might develop into the older, darker, and more frustrated man we have seen in previous films. King himself has described this film as a companion piece to the Gene Wilder vehicle, which is partially evident. However, how Wonka goes from an excitable, infectious, and sociable young man to a recluse and a raging capitalist (as well as potential child murderer) is not explored in any fashion.
This might be for the best. Wonka is not seeking to stimulate questions for, nor suggest answers to, the mysteries and vagueries of the famous/infamous chocolatier. It simply exists as a joyous, scrumptious, and irrepressible creation. Therefore, my advice is short, sweet, and simple: buy a golden ticket and come with Wonka into its world of imagination.
This is a Barbenheimer world and we are all just living in it. This summer’s Internet-inspired phenomenon – a meme creation machine like no other – has finally arrived, pitching two diametrically opposed, yet forever interlinked films, into the limelight: Greta Gerwig’s Barbie and Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer.
Barbie acts as the yang to the latter’s yin. Not only is it a bright, lively, and engaging film – and uproariously funny in parts – it is inclusive to all who buy a ticket to see it. Whether your interest in Barbie (or dolls in general) stopped at a young age, or never got started at all, this film invites you to be a part of its vibrant world – and to pose the viewer some challenging questions along the way.
Set in Barbieland, a place where innumerable Barbies and Kens live in harmony, the film’s main focus is on “Stereotypical Barbie” (Margot Robbie), who finds her seemingly perfect existence and positivity brought down by inexplicably human experiences like death and cellulite. Guided by “Weird Barbie” (Kate McKinnon), our protagonist sets forth into the real world, to find out and fix the issues causing the upheaval in her life.
Accompanied by “Beach Ken”, the superbly cast Ryan Gosling, Barbie discovers that the real world is very different to her own, with the film delving into themes such as the nature of womanhood, feminism, patriarchy, as well as Barbie’s role in exacerbating problems related to those subjects. Undoubtedly, there will be those who decry Barbie as anti-man, but that would be an overly simplistic response to a film that examines contemporary issues in a playful, yet thought-provoking manner, while also giving plenty of scope for its male and female characters to learn and grow.
While it loses its way in the final act, becoming less purposeful as it reaches its anti-climactic conclusion, Barbie is more than worth two hours of your time. Importantly, it could by no means be classified as a children’s film. There are numerous gags that have been written for adults – including the final line – that would require a lot of mental gymnastics to explain to younger viewers.
Moreover, in many ways, Barbie is a movie made for now: the perennially smiling citizens of Barbieland prop and pose themselves like social media influencers, showing only their best sides, either afraid or unaware of – or disinterested in – genuine issues. However, when they find themselves facing these issues for the first time, these Barbies and Kens practice so much of what the Internet preaches, realizing that discussion, compromise, and compassion can lead to growth and improvement for all. This is a big achievement for a film based on a 60-something-year-old doll and, while it does not hit every mark, Barbie deserves credit for its effort, its warmth, its world creation, and its myriad quotable lines that will be repeated for years to come.
“Anything is possible” is a famous slogan associated with Barbie and this movie, with a little something for everyone, has just proved it.
Oppenheimer
Just like Barbie, J. Robert Oppenheimer ponders death and the nature of humanity. Unlike the famous fuchsia-clad doll, however, Oppenheimer goes many steps further and leads the creation of an instrument that will bring about thousands of casualties and irrevocably change the course of world history: the atomic bomb.
Christopher Nolan’s latest endeavour is a character study on the life of Oppenheimer (the acclaimed and/or infamous physicist, depending on your point-of-view), showcasing his university days, through the Manhattan Project, and all the way up to the turbulent security hearings he faced in 1954.
From the get-go, Oppenheimer displays many of the traits of a typical Nolan film. It is dimly lit, moody, and relentlessly serious. Although it does not contain a heart-stopping opening sequence akin to those of Tenet, Inception, or The Dark Knight, it does place the viewer right in a young Oppenheimer’s whirring scientific mind as he contemplates the cosmos, the rain, and the make-up of the world. It is clear, from this moment, that Oppenheimer will be an audio-visual spectacle: built for the cinema, made to be witnessed in as large a theatre as possible, designed to envelop the audience in the sights and sounds that have so thoughtfully been merged to create it.
But then it all calms down – and, as will be the case for a significant portion of the runtime – the film focuses more on the dialogue between Oppenheimer and the individuals that influenced his career. This is not a slight on the film, but a note to those expecting a bombastic thrill ride: Oppenheimer is not about the atomic bomb, but about those who created it, chiefly led by Oppenheimer from his Los Alamos base in New Mexico.
The film is presented in a non-linear fashion, giving the viewer the opportunity to see the before, during, and after-effects of Oppenheimer’s work, in a way that keeps the story lively rather than by-the-numbers. In fact, the slow burn of the film works in its favour when it comes to its big moment: the testing of the atomic bomb in July 1945. When the scene arrives, it is delivered in astonishing fashion, dousing those watching in irrepressible light and leaving an absence of sound that will only be filled by audible gasps from the audience.
The performances from the ensemble cast are all solid, but one would expect no less from established performers including Robert Downey Jr. and Matt Damon, among numerous other interesting cameos. Cillian Murphy, as Oppenheimer, is pitch perfect, not only embodying the man’s physical mannerisms, but also his odd ambiguousness when it comes to his feelings on the impact of his work.
Not everything during this three-hour cinematic event works. Emily Blunt and Florence Pugh play Kitty Oppenheimer and Jean Tatlock, respectively, both of whom played significant roles in Oppenheimer’s life. Unfortunately, both are underserved by the script that gives them only one-dimensional roles to fill, despite sterling efforts from two excellent actors. Furthermore, while the film does well to make a complicated story accessible to a wide-ranging audience, it would be beneficial for viewers to have reasonable knowledge of communism in the USA in the early to mid-twentieth century, to get a full understanding of the context of the time.
Despite this, Oppenheimer, is a detailed, informative, and riveting piece of cinema that captures the urgency of the time and the intriguing character at the heart of one of the most consequential developments in human history.
The age of the ‘Whodunnit’ has long since passed, which, if Kenneth Branagh’s turgid 2017 interpretation of “Murder on the Orient Express” in 2017 is anything to go by, is no bad thing.
Here, just a few years later, director Rian Johnson gives us an updated take on this format, in the shape of “Knives Out”, a modern murder mystery with an enticing plot and undeniably stellar cast. However, the question that must be asked is, given the antiquated nature of films such as these, should we really care?
The answer is a resounding “yes!” From the outset, “Knives Out” weaves the viewer into its world, juxtaposing the classic tone of the format against a more modern setting and collection of characters. The predominant location of the story, an isolated country house whipped straight from the ‘Whodunnit’ playbook, is perfectly-rendered, containing trinkets both old and new, including intricate ornaments and secret windows, as well as stylish surroundings and defiant coffee cups that state: “My House. My Rules. My Coffee”. Most importantly, the film strikes the right balance between simplicity and complexity, also paying homage to the films that have inspired it while giving them a fresh twist.
The story focuses on the aftermath of the supposed suicide of Harlan Thrombey (Christopher Plummer), a famous crime author and patriarch of a thoroughly unlikeable gang of moguls, cheats and leeches one could barely describe as a family. Following the arrival of renowned private detective, Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig), the almost-concluded investigation turns into a murder inquiry – and everyone is a suspect.
The first act of the film is commendably sharp and slick, powering through initial interviews with each of the characters with effortless aplomb and humour. Each character, it is revealed, has a potential motive for bumping Harlan off to the afterlife, but, such are the circumstances surrounding the death, how and when could anyone in the family have done the deed?
In truth, the film could be described as one long red herring, leading viewers down an intriguing path that keeps a tight hold on our attention until it… doesn’t. However, what “Knives Out” does exceptionally well is then, ultimately, what lets it down, building the story to the point where it is almost impossible for most of the characters to have been behind the murder, except for the character or characters it turns out to be. The identity of the murderer or murderers is so signposted that it is almost unbelievable – and viewers will most likely be waiting for a further twist that, regretfully, does not appear.
That is not to say that the film is not worth your time or money. This is a romping, engaging, self-aware, fun and, at times, very funny addition to the format, with each actor bringing as close to their A-game as possible. Keeping you guessing for a satisfyingly sufficient amount of its two-hour run-time, you could do far worse than to do a little amateur sleuthing on a wet winter’s day.
There is a widespread belief in the world of cinema that the original “King Kong” was an allegory for African colonialism and the slave trade. Film-makers, including Quentin Tarantino, argue that it does not matter whether this was the intention of the 1933 film or not: that is the film that was made, influenced as it was by the subjective worldviews and subconscious of those involved in producing it.
This brings us onto “Joker”, the most anticipated film of 2019 – and one of the year’s most controversial creations. Focusing on the origins of the infamous supervillain, audiences watch the inception of the man behind the make-up, peering into his struggles to deal with the grim grittiness of everyday life in a crime- and rat-infested Gotham City. Here, the man mirrors the city: isolated, depressed, envious and enraged, on the verge of breaking point.
There has been so much talk about “Joker” that another personal review may get lost in the maelstrom of noise that is only bound to get louder as more people have the opportunity to see the film. However, it is necessary to say this: “Joker” is a powerful, evocative and effective film. It is, for better or worse, important and relevant, devastatingly frightening because it hits so close to home, reflecting the negative and cynical atmosphere of much of modern western society.
Thus, we return to the “King Kong” comparison: it does not matter if this interpretation was the intention of director Todd Phillips and his team. This is the film they have made. This is how “Joker” has already been – and will continue to be – understood: an allegory that puts a microscope on the worst elements of society, illustrating its main themes in a cinematic, overtly-stylised presentation.
“Joker” is, unquestionably, a cinematic triumph. Joaquin Phoenix fills the character with a magnetism and, dare I say it, sympathy that should make you and your cognitive dissonance uncomfortable. While his affected, fluid movements excite and entice in equal measure, this man, tipped over the edge by the day-to-day misery of his existence, accidentally but violently takes action that puts him front-and-centre of the society that has rejected him. He arrives at the fame he seeks in a far more twisted way than he had imagined, but arrives there nonetheless. This raw iteration of the character makes you wonder, despite all he has done and will do, can you understand his point-of-view?
This is a film of serious choices: the choice to present a raw, dark version of Joker that kills abruptly, viciously and unceremoniously. The choice to introduce the full Joker transition via a Gary Glitter song. The choice to make a movie that the film-makers knew could be interpreted, as my good friend Joe put it, as “a call-to-arms” for the disaffected of society. These choices have been made now. Whatever happens, within the film world or out of it, one thing is certain: we will all be talking about “Joker” for a long time to come.
Think about your favourite Quentin Tarantino film and then focus on a single moment from it. Do you imagine “Pulp Fiction” and Samuel L. Jackson’s evocative “Ezekiel 25:17” speech? Or, perhaps you have a profound love for Christoph Waltz’s Colonel Hans Landa of “Inglourious Basterds”, bringing tides of doom over a glass of fresh milk.
Whatever moment you choose, it is likely to have been one preceded or followed by scenes of intense, graphic and often gratuitous violence. Tarantino has always been controversial, his films both revered and reviled, delivering relentless scenes of chaos and humour unto our screens that, if nothing else, have left their mark on our memories.
If this is the Tarantino you seek, it would be wise to go and scour through his eight-film back catalogue, because “Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood” is an entirely different creation altogether.
Set against a vibrant and immersive 1969 California, with Hollywood’s supposed golden age coming to a close and the cult of Charles Manson looming on the horizon, Tarantino foregoes major plot points in order to instead explore the daily endeavours of almost-washed-up actor Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his effortlessly cool stunt double/best friend Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt). Dalton wallows in what remains of his waning TV and film career, while Booth, long-since deemed unnecessary and unwanted by the studios, is kept on his personal payroll as a driver, handyman and, perhaps most pertinently, emotional support provider. Belonging to a time steeped in colour, hippies and social division, the pair don’t know their standing, meandering through lives neither glamorous enough to be truly elite, nor bleak enough to warrant real sympathy.
If one were to clumsily categorise this rather abstract film, its most fitting description would be a light-hearted buddy comedy. DiCaprio and Pitt, two of the most celebrated stars of their era, are perfectly cast, instilling warmth and “believability” into characters stumbling to find purpose in a changing world. This film has been lazily described as a love letter to Hollywood, but within may lie an element of truth. Either Tarantino is showing that, in the age of Marvel and Marvel-lite, original works starring A-list actors can still be successful – or, contrarily, he is proffering his bittersweet ode and farewell to the films of yesteryear.
Though tame by the standards one would expect of a Tarantino flick, this film is a conversation starter that will change upon every re-watch, offering a window into how Hollywood used to be. There are, of course, moments of tension and violence, but they are few and far between. This film wants to take you for an easy-going tour through L.A.’s sun-drenched boulevards, but there’s no need to buckle up: kick your shoes off, sit back and enjoy the ride.
(P.S. Tarantino once again discards historical accuracy to deliver a “what if…?” ending that will only make sense to those familiar with the story of the Manson Family and Sharon Tate, so brush up on that knowledge before you go.)
There exists an adage that suggests the sign of a true friendship is when two old friends meet for the first time in a long while and are immediately able to pick up where they left off, re-establishing a meaningful connection with ease.
Despite any indifference you may have felt upon the announcement of another entry in the “Toy Story” franchise, it is this comforting feeling of familiarity that is ignited as soon as the opening chords of Randy Newman’s ageless “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” chime in over the opening credits. Those with any affinity with any aspect of “Toy Story” should feel at home right away.
Thrusting the viewer back to a time set somewhere between the adventures that took place in the second and third films, “Toy Story 4” kicks off in the middle of a torrential downpour, a mini pre-adventure that not only explains how Bo Peep and Woody became separated, but sets the tone for the heist movie to follow.
Cutting back to the present day, we see Woody and the gang in their newest environment, acting as the play-things for young Bonnie, who is just about to start her first day of kindergarten. Watching her as she struggles to adapt to her surroundings – and battling his own feelings of self-doubt – Woody provides Bonnie with the materials to make her own friend, a spork known as Forky. Of course, not everything goes to plan, with Forky, both humorously and darkly, facing an existential crisis, believing himself to be trash and lobbing himself into the bin at every available opportunity. When the moment comes that Forky requires rescuing, Woody, of course, steps up, determined to make Bonnie happy and to keep his group intact.
It is from here that the plot truly sets off, with riveting set pieces, memorable new characters and several hysterical moments adding to a story that manages to feel fresh, funny and, most importantly, worthwhile, given the uncertainty as to whether it was necessary in the first place.
Those with an aversion to creepy dolls should not only avoid the latest “Childsplay” movie to hit cinemas, but, should, perhaps, apply the same reluctance to watch this particular film, given the presence of four rather menacing ventriloquist dummies, all of whom are under the control of Gabby Gabby, a disquieting doll who will do all she can to attract the love and attention of any child who will have her.
While not as emotionally engaging as watching these beloved characters deal with their own mortality towards the end of the last film, “Toy Story 4” comes to a satisfying conclusion, doing, arguably, a better job of ending the story for good, if that indeed turns out to be the case this time. Should “Toy Story” be brought back from beyond for a fifth instalment, it will only be because there is a tale to be told – and we should now trust the film-makers to deliver it. They haven’t let us down so far.
In one of Laurel and Hardy’s most famous sketches, “Hard Boiled Eggs and Nuts”, Hardy is lying on a hospital bed, his broken right leg hoisted above him. Laurel bumbles his way through the hospital to find him, telling his friend that “I didn’t have anything else to do, so I thought I’d drop in and see you”. When you watch this small exchange, without any other previous introduction to the pair, you get what all the fuss was about. Their little-and-large, straight-and-narrow combo has resisted the decaying grip of time, remaining as genuinely funny today as it was in their 1930s heyday.
If, like me, your knowledge of Laurel and Hardy stretches solely to thinking they had something to do with that “Laurel/Yanny” audio craze last year, then this film is the perfect entry vehicle for you. It is an enjoyable romp, a Friday night feel-good film if ever there was one. Examining the funny-men’s ill-planned theatre tour of Britain and Ireland in the late 1950s, as they try to rediscover the fame and fortune that has long-since deserted them, the success of the film stands or falls on your perception of the performances of the actors portraying the pair, namely Steve Coogan as Laurel – and John C. Reilly as Hardy.
Luckily, Coogan and Reilly pull it off, bringing the heart, soul and humour of these comedy greats to life. In fact, it would be hard to find two better-cast people to play these roles. Coogan, carrying the creative can for the twosome, presents Laurel as the leader, a weary work-a-holic who works to live, desperate for another big break that will take the two back to their prime. Reilly, on the other hand, puts all of his natural charm on show, showing us the soft, kindly side of Hardy: a natural comic talent that loved to perform whatever material Laurel had written for them.
This is a gentle film, lacking in hard examinations of the real vices of the duo, such as the alcoholism and gambling that are only fleetingly touched on in parts of the 97-minute runtime. However, there are some genuinely weighty moments, none more-so than when the two have a powerfully resentful argument about who and what caused their drop in success, in front of an unsuspecting crowd which thinks they are simply doing an impromptu sketch. Here, Coogan and Reilly really get behind the eyes of the people they’re playing, loosening the shackles and flexing their acting muscles to great aplomb.
A special mention must go to Nina Arianda, playing Ida, Laurel’s hilariously tough yet relentlessly supportive Russian wife. It is she who provides most of the movie’s best comedic moments, delivering one withering response after another to those who irritate her.
Avoiding schmaltz and at least acknowledging the pair’s flaws gives “Stan and Ollie” a pleasant balance, as the film zips along to its emotional and uplifting finale, leaving you somewhere between laughing and crying, just as Laurel and Hardy would want it.
It is rare to find a moment that so succinctly captures a film’s essence as this one in “The Favourite”: Abigail (Emma Stone) shoots a bird down from the sky and the dying creature’s blood spatters all over the face of her rival (Sarah, played by Rachel Weisz), who can only look on in shock, horror and indignation. In amongst the myriad of praise “The Favourite” deserves, here is the first: it is exactly what it intends to be. It is focused, clear and in control, never losing sight of the story it sets out to tell. It delivers on the promise of its trailers: a black comedy of sorts; a tragicomedy of zany melancholy.
Set in a wartime Britain of 1708, the sickly, temperamental and unreliable Queen Anne (the always-outstanding Olivia Colman) is on the throne. In reality, it is her adviser and secret lover, Sarah, who runs the country. She is calculated and stern, but fair, making decisions she believes to be for the benefit of the country. All of this is put to the test when her cousin, Abigail, arrives, asking for employment. Resistant and cold at first, Sarah grows to appreciate Abigail after she does some good work in looking after the gout-suffering Queen. Sarah makes Abigail her lady-in-waiting, thus unwittingly setting about tearing apart the security her of own life, as the Queen and Abigail begin to get very close indeed.
Some will tell you that a perfect film is about entertainment; others, the standard of the acting or the technical achievements done from behind or off the camera. Well, here you have it all. “The Favourite” is giddily entertaining from the get-go, raucously funny in parts, yet relentlessly sad in others. Its performances are flawlessly on-point, while the creativity and colour of some of its shots mesh wonderfully with the 18th century period on show.
The three leads, Colman, Weisz and Stone, are a joy to watch. They have fun with their characters, delighting in the all the fiendish devilment they are allowed to get up to, but balance this by bringing the right amount of weight to the sadder moments. The biggest compliment you can pay to the performances is that, even though all of the women are capable of vicious malice and vindictiveness, a part of you can understand where they are coming from.
Love, lust, power and control are all on display here, enough themes for any of us to get our head around, so bringing comedy into the mixture could have made the whole effort go awry. But the humour is inserted at just the right times, with such splendid delivery that it fits itself inside the film effortlessly, never slowing it down or distracting from the story.
A ticket to see “The Favourite” will leave you entertained and weirded-out; awestruck and bemused. You will not see a stranger or better-rounded film this year – and it has richly earned whatever awards and accolades are inevitably coming its way this year.
We are living in the age of the unequal “–equel”, a period in which the prequels, sequels and threequels of the well-established properties that dominate and saturate the cinematic landscape are frequently seen to be inferior to the originals that inspired them.
As a result of this, we often cynically find ourselves berating the behaviour of the men in suits of Hollywood, decrying their dearth of creativity as they rub their hands together, robbing our beloved childhood nostalgia, mashing and mass-producing it, before selling it back to us in cash-grabbing chunks.
However, perhaps there is some heart behind the art of rehashing older movies. Maybe some film-makers were and remain so fascinated and enthralled by them that they want to pay homage to them; not for the sake of money, but to bring a little of that lost light back into an ever darker world.
It would seem that “Mary Poppins Returns”, directed by Rob Marshall (“Chicago” and “Into the Woods”) presents itself to us with the latter viewpoint. Its bright, colourful and cheerful tone, released at this most sentimental time of year, carries a sweet scent of escapism, relishing its position as one of the most feel-good films of 2018.
Its target audience is clear, but this second entry in the Poppins-verse should capture the enthusiasm of anyone who still retains a trace of child-like innocence and wonder. The intertwining of modern live action and old school animation is inspired, while the director’s previous works mentioned above should leave no viewer surprised at the scale of the excellent choreography on display.
In this iteration, however, it is unfortunate that Poppins herself seems to be a somewhat unhelpful distraction, unashamedly vain and possessing a strong urge to show off, all while this reeling family are trying to deal with the death of their mother and the potential repossession of their home, the main cruxes of the plot. Yes, she is there to bring a little magic back into the family, but, as my girlfriend said as we were watching the film: “They need a ma, not another bloody song!”
There are silly attempts at world-building, as the thin semblance of a story is tossed aside in favour of irrelevant yet, of course, dazzling song-and-dance numbers. The plot meanders, as it tries to squeeze itself into the gaps between the glamour. If you were to strip away the shininess you would be left with that most bottom-of-the-barrel story: small group of people needs to find money to save old building.
However, despite this, plus its over-length, over-reliance on snazzy songs and dances and its overly neat conclusion, no-one could, really, argue that this is not a genuine attempt at bringing joy to families looking for a few hours of nu-nostalgic entertainment. It is saccharine sweet, a world of lollipops, kites and balloons, but it is not cynical. It is genuine, heartfelt and carefree – and, for all of this, it’s worth popping out to see “Poppins” fly in.
The 500 Word Write-Up 