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WHY YOU SHOULD GIVE BRITISH FILM A CHANCE...

6/30/2017

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“Cinema is dying”?! Think Again!

“Cinema is dull”, “cinema is dying”, “cinema is dead” tend to be the three opinions spewing from the pages of pompous broadsheets in their regular end of year film round-ups.
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Indeed I may be inclined to agree if I was to judge the artistic quality of modern movies on the summer onslaughts of dirgy D.C Comics flicks and Michael Bay’s terrible ‘Transformers’ (a fifth of which is depressingly stinking up a cinema as we speak!).

Perhaps these may be what mainstream multiplex audiences endlessly experience. As far as the British independent scene is concerned, though, the situation couldn’t be more drastically different.

Yes. Hollywood may be overrun by greedy corporations desperate to cash-in on a commercial extravaganza. But take a trip down to your local arthouse picturehouse and witness the difference back home…
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5 REASONS TO CHAMPION UK CINEMA


5. Feminism
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​Misogyny and sexism prevail in Tinseltown. Want evidence? Just look to a distasteful shot of Megan Fox bending over a motorbike in ‘Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen’ (2009)!
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No such endless scenes of tanned, dyed blonde girls in bikinis, hotpants and Lycra exist on the UK screen! This year alone has seen phenomenal female-led British fare such as ‘The Levelling’, ‘Lady Macbeth’ and ‘Their Finest’. All of which featured strong, empowered feminine role models that were never defined by their waist size, boobs or bone structure. 

4. Ethnic Diversity
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​Ethnic diversity is thriving in British Film. Simply turn your eyes to outstanding black British actors such as Idris Elba, Chiwetel Ejifor and David Oyelowo. An actress front sees talent such as Naomie Harris, Thandie Newton and Gugu Mbatha-Raw soaring.

As for Asian performers, Ben Kingsley, Dev Patel and Riz Ahmed represent an important pantheon.

Whereas US studios would largely typecast those of an ethnic minority in hideously stereotyped supporting roles; not only do these stars headline respected UK productions, but their characters are not dictated by race.
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An impressive example would be Idris Elba’s titular role in the BBC’s ‘Luther’ (2010-). Ok. It’s a TV Show, not a film. But Elba’s tortured central detective is never once referred to as “black”.

​3. The Best "Movie Stars" are Brits
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Hollywood may claim to have the upper-hand on a capital front, but, let’s face it, they rely on us!

Who knew Superman’s Henry Cavill, Batman’s Christian Bale and Spiderman’s Andrew Garfield were all Brits?

On top of this, actresses such as Kate Winslet, Emma Thompson and Carey Mulligan have been taking the OSCARS by storm for years!

Behind the camera, British-born Christopher Nolan has subverted the standards of franchise fodder with the cerebral ‘Inception’ (2010) and intergalactic ‘Interstellar’ (2014). Made hell of a lot of cash too!

Back on UK shores is a sprawling spawn of British directorial juggernauts including Edgar Wright (‘Baby Driver’, ‘Shaun of the Dead’), Ben Wheatley (‘Free Fire’, ‘Sightseers’) and Paul Greengrass (‘Jason Bourne’ series, ‘Captain Phillips’). All of whom – upon their ventures across the pond – have created some of the most refreshingly alternative spins on the average blockbuster.
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What’s to say? Brits rule Tinseltown!


2. Authenticity
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Whereas 21st Century Hollywood is a market place for superheroic escapism and overwrought melodrama, British cinema wrings with realism!

Whether it be the grungy nightclubs of Edinburgh’s ‘Trainspotting’ (1996) or the sink estates of Sheffield’s ‘The Full Monty’ (1997), there’s something unflinching and raw about the way British film-makers treat their very real subjects (with some good ole’ Brit humour too!).

You won’t find a ray of heart-yanking sunshine or a Sigur Ros song playing over gravelly streets in the movies of Ken Loach and Mike Leigh. Instead you’ll find gritty, anguished yet poignant politics; unrelentingly getting to the heart of social stigma that is holding this country back!


1. Art, not money
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As L.A corporations continue to drain the pennies from our wallets in the most miserable of manners, there’s a cost to that itself. It’s that their productions are largely bereft of creativity, soul and originality.

Perhaps it’s inevitable that if a film’s monetary success is entirely guaranteed by the size of its superhero, star and special effects, any lack of effort put into it is justified.

Independent British cinema may not match the behemoths of budgets on display in the States, but their lack of debt to corporate chauvinists may be their greatest asset.

My favourite Brit pic of recent years is a low-key surrealist school drama named ‘The Falling’ (2015). Helmed by independent director Carol Morley and led by Maisie Williams (both further emphasising Britain’s championship of female screen talent), this was a swooning, haunting coming-of-age saga exploring adolescent angst and sexual awakening; while chin-stroking over a fainting epidemic in an all-girl’s school.

This kind of ambitious, beautifully subversive cinema – crafted entirely from a film-maker’s own vision – would not be possible had it been tailor-made for studio bean-counters.

Should artistic films like this continue to be produced, the idea that cinema has no place left in the world is a no-brainer…


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BABY DRIVER (2017) FILM REVIEW

6/30/2017

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*****
15, 113 Mins

A motor masterwork of musical madness.
When any new film from Edgar Wright beckons, audiences can be safely guaranteed three things.  Coked-up colours, ecstatic editing and pop culture carouses are all mouth-welling tastes of Mr. Wright’s delicious directorial flavour.

If the barmy auteur’s brilliant ‘Cornetto Trilogy’ (2004-2013) (‘Shaun of the Dead’, ‘Hot Fuzz’ and ‘The World’s End) is any indication, you’d be a fool to deny this is a man with a dually comedic and bloodthirsty passion for the offbeat.

Following a note-perfect send-off for long-term collaborators Simon Pegg and Nick Frost in the moving pub crawls of ‘The World’s End’ (2013), ‘Baby Driver’s release couldn’t come with more expectation and trepidation.

The trepidation being whether British King Wright of Cult can manage solo and America!
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Indeed the last time the film-maker made a leap across the pond it was a Box Office bomb in the shape of ‘Scott Pilgrim vs. The World’ (2010). While hardly terrible, that over-inflated tale felt a little too mainstream and Hollywood for Wright’s quintessentially English quirkiness.

Thrilling therefore that ‘Baby Driver’ is his maddest, most motorheaded, monstrously entertaining concoction yet!

Though supposedly set in modern day Atlanta, the cathartic cinematography drools a scorching retro vibe that feels almost uncanny to a 70s B-Movie.

Tap dancing effortlessly to the blistering beats of Beach Boys, Queen and Simon and Garfunkel is ‘Fault in Our Star’s Ansell Elgort. He plays the titular Baby Driver – a cherub-faced getaway chauffeur for Kevin Spacey’s bespectacled Kingpin.

As Baby spends his days taxiing for a trigger happy gang of brutish bank robbers (Jon Hamm, Jaime Foxx, Jon Bernthal and Eliza Gonzalez), he does so while plugged in with an iPod and headphones to the ear.

Being partially deaf thanks to a traumatic accident in childhood, Baby’s fondness for nostalgic tunes helps him navigate his way through the duplicitous morality of his criminal lifestyle!

A true shot at escapism, however, arrives with Baby’s growing affection for sultry waitress Debra (Lily James). After a flirty bonding session in a ‘Pulp Fiction’-style diner, Baby swiftly realises it’s time to leave his lawless livelihood behind and run away with the woman of his dreams.

Yet when a final heist turns nasty, everything close to him may have just been thrown into jeopardy.

As they say, once a criminal, always a criminal…

Within 2 mins of an extraordinary opening sequence featuring explosions of chaos, cars and caffeine, I knew I was bought!

Having a plot as cheerfully simple as a red Subaru speeding brashly down Sunset Boulevard, ‘Baby Driver’ asks a bonkers question. What if ‘Fast and Furious’ (2002-) was scored by a jukebox?

Unsurprisingly the soundtrack is an adrenaline-fuelled metal mash of old-school rock, pop and R&B Soul. It’s also an essential encapsulation of ‘Baby Driver’s hip setting and success!

The film pedals mightily to the metal; breathlessly barrelling forward while never placing feet on the breaks. And yet it has the slapstick sensibility to melodically subvert such conventions.

Despite being a production refreshingly short of CGI, ‘Baby Driver’ oozes with an immersive cinematic quality verging on surrealism. Whether it be the sight of vehicles, sound of engines or even the smell of petrol, Wright spectacularly teases every sense.
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Once again, the director’s whimsical choice of music is central to this. A fantastically high watermark is a barnstorming, gung-ho street shootout. As blood splatters and bullets bounce, Wright wittily choreographes the deafening blasts of shotguns to the drums of ‘Bellbottoms’ by Jon Spencer Blues Explosion.

Imagine ‘Drive’ (2011) meets ‘La La Land’ (2017) if it was directed by an ADHD-addled hipster!
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Unlike that former film, however, which focused on the loneliness of Ryan Gosling behind the wheel; ‘Baby Driver’s driving vision is radiantly romantic.

If there has ever been a film that gloriously lives and loves the fast lane, this 100% fits the bill. Yet while such a laddish obsession with the highway could easily be grating, here it nothing, but charms.

Adding a lovely sweetness to the roaring road rage is a tender screen couple for the digital age. Stars Elgort and James’ touching chemistry wrings a delightful combo of schmaltzy and sardonic; leaping soulfully and flamboyantly between laughs, pathos and even tragedy!

As Michael Bay continues to poison multiplexes with the dreary carnage of ‘Transformers: The Last Knight’ (2017), we owe it to film-makers like Wright for producing popcorn entertainment as original and as much fun as ‘Baby Driver’.

Whether it dashes to Box Office bravura remains to be seen, but sure-fire cult stardom is bagged for this delectable drag race!

No wonder I immediately wanted more!
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STARSTRUCK BY STONE

6/23/2017

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​My little love letter to this wonderful actress...
If you observe films endlessly in your spare time (as I do), you’ll be well aware of certain actors/actresses you simply cannot hate.
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They may be outstanding treasures of performance masterclass, brasher than billboards or wooden enough to make IKEA furniture feel like terracotta cushions. And yet you just adore them…

They are your favourites. The ones you look up to. The ones you aspire towards. The ones you’d be utterly unable to construct “hello” if you were ever ridiculously fortunate enough to encounter them…

It's okay. It's called being starstruck...

I, like many others, have my idols. On a director’s front, Christopher Nolan – the maestro auteur behind ‘Inception’ (2010), ‘Interstellar’ (2014) and ‘The Dark Knight Trilogy’ (2005-2012) – would hold the crown!

Actor’s-wise, you can’t beat Idris Elba! A broad-shouldered, raspy-voiced, 6ft3 hunk built like a Linebacker; men don’t get manlier than DCI John Luther/Stringer Bell (‘The Wire’).
Favourite actress is a rather more difficult question, however. Namely it causes me to choose between the greatest female performing talent (Kate Winslet would be most viewer’s best bet) and simply someone I have nothing, but glowing admiration for.

If someone was to ask me maybe a year ago, I would’ve likely answered with Maisie Williams. Indeed the fierce, feisty yet sweet-natured 19 year old girl who is ‘Game of Throne’s Arya Stark earns my total Stark praise.

However perhaps the actress and – let’s be honest – overall performer, who I believe I would be most lost for words in the presence of  is Emma Stone.

Frankly I could spend all week listing why I believe Miss Stone to be the most utterly charming and delightful actress of her generation.

Largely because she really does seem “utterly charming and delightful” if all her interviews are any indication. Not to mention her heart-melting recent response to a similarly swept away male fan who rather sweetly asked her to his high school prom – all while re-enacting ‘La La Land’s sun-stroked, car-leaping opening number!

A combination of stunning natural looks and pitch-perfect persona, Stone is unquestionably Hollywood’s nicest leading lady.

How thrilling therefore that her acting range is every bit as versatile as those big eyes!

Blessed with whip-smart comic timing mixed with touching vulnerability, I first became aware of Stone’s deliciously sassy charisma when viewing ‘Superbad’ (2007).

Like most gross-out frat fare from Judd Apatow and co., there was an inevitable level of leery laddishness seeping through this high school back-catalogue of “dicks”, “sex” and “babes”. However the film can at least take prizes home for being the opening chapter for the big screen’s most unstoppably reliable “girl next door”.

Since then, no matter how toe-curling flicks such as ‘The House Bunny’ (2008), ‘The Help’ (2011) and ‘Aloha’ (2015) might be, Stone remained top of her game.
(I'll even forgive her for a baffling cameo in the revolting 'Movie 43' (2013)!)
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Perhaps the soprano to my symphony of Stone mania arrived in ‘Easy A’ (2010). I may have floods of almost entirely male mates scoffing in my face that this contemporary spin on Hawthorne’s ‘The Scarlett Letter’ is corny, contrived and cringe-worthy in the extreme, but frankly what do they know!

‘Easy A’ may well be all those clichés, but is that really such a bad thing? Especially when you have EMMA STONE whipping up every whimsical one-liner your voicebox could never dream of delivering. Plus singing 'Pocket Full of Sunshine'!

This is how you do a “chick flick” (it pains me to use that anti-PC term!); bolstered by Stone’s fully fledged-out and too clever for words female heroine Olive Prendergast. A girl so genuinely and subtly hillarious she makes the ‘Sex and the City’ ladies drown in their drooling corpulence of consumerist filth!

I’ve now seen ‘Easy A’ three times and can barely leave the house without wanting to skip down every street screaming "I GOT A POCKET FULL OF SUNSHINE!" from the top of my lungs! Thanks Emma!

Stone would follow her a-list breakthrough with unsurprisingly terrific performances in ‘The Amazing Spiderman’ (2012-2014) and ‘Birdman’ (2015). The former being alongside her then real-life boyfriend Andrew Garfield and cementing Peter Parker + Gwen Stacy as the cutest couple of cinema.

The latter film was a surreal satire shot in a singular take. Arguably more pretentious than 10 committees of Cannes Film Festival snobs!

However, once again Stone shone; stripping away her bubbly exterior to reveal a damaged, sensitive and fragile soul swimming hard against the tides of Tinseltown vacuousness.

It is this determination, commitment and passion for her profession that forms my grandest respect for Miss Stone.

Given the industry’s conveyer belt of lust, greed and superficiality, it’s a joy to see a celebrity so giddily in love with the art of acting itself.

Stone’s openly discussed daily battles with crippling Social Anxiety may have taken its toll, but she demands it doesn’t  get to her – cheerfully pioneering her immense talent as both pure escapism and  an accomplished path to well-deserved dreams!

When she finally stood proudly and inspiringly back in February with OSCAR in hand, I felt truly happy for her. If only more celebrities were as generous and heartfelt as Stone! No doubt the world would be a better place!

If only I could meet her…


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SEX AND THE CITY 3 ??!!

6/22/2017

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The prospect of a third round of handbag-hearted, heel-headed torture makes me shudder to the bone…

​PINK = PRODUCT PLACEMENT
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Perhaps the point at which I first lost the will to live during the monstrous ‘Sex and the City’ films (2008-2010) came about half an hour into the first cinematic instalment.

It involved a scene featuring these shallow, superficial, sycophantic drag queens sipping champagne to Aerosmith’s ‘Walk This Way’ and revelling in the crass comforts of Carrie Bradshaw’s filthy rich wardrobe. This widely described “womanly dream” is of course – in the world of ‘SATC’s carouse – a bedroom-based debauchery of jewellery, high heels and LOUIS VUITTON handbags!

During this sequence in which the “girls” tried on and catwalked their most beloved materials, I quickly realised I was watching less a movie than a slab of misogynistic,
$ multi-million merchandise propaganda. A film every bit as fake and fashion-addicted as it’s disgracefully stereotyped central heroines.


However such mean-spirited materialism might have been minutely more bearable if Carrie, Charlotte, Samantha and Miranda had the decency to keep their cynical vacuousness to themselves!

Shamefully, Charlotte’s adopted Vietnamese toddler daughter Lily was swiftly swept up in this crass cacophony of Consumerist horrors (contemptible cliché of stinkingly wealthy “white saviour” stealing and brainwashing dark-skinned child from supposedly “third world” country!).

Beyond “accidental racism”, Director Michael Patrick King insists the little girl – dressed only in nappies – be further draped in corpulent excesses of gold, platinum and silver trinkets. A good way to poison the minds and souls of our female youngsters into believing money, men and materials are what makes a lady a lady!

What has this world come to?!! Worse still, this is only the beginning…

It’s no surprise really that I despise ‘Sex and the City’. Thankfully I am not alone in this view; though every male ‘SATC’ sceptic will have received at least one aggressive tirade from a member of the series’ mostly middle-aged and middle class feminine fanbase. Highly likely and wrongly to be called - in one way or another - a “sexist pig” for reasons that follow…
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3 REASONS WHY "YOU DON'T GET SEX AND THE CITY!":


​3. "You haven't seen the TV Show!"
​To which I answer no. I have not witnessed the long-running 1998-2004 HBO saga from which these vile productions were based. Does that mean therefore that I have no previous connections with these characters? Absolutely! And frankly I would rather beat my head into a brick outerhouse than spend even 2 seconds with these horrendous excuses for human beings! Not kidding! Honestly!
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2. "You hate chick flicks!"
​Not true in the slightest. While I may not exactly be the demographic for so-called “chick flicks” (calling them such sounds sexist in itself!), I bear no ill will against a witty, well-made female-orientated feature. In fact, I have a soft spot for films such as ‘Easy A’ (2010), ‘Clueless’ (1995) and ‘Mean Girls’ (2004). They represented femininity as smart, sassy and sweet. Not "shallow, superficial and sycophantic"!
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1. "You're a guy!"
WOW! You're clever, aren't you?!!
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YES! I AM A GUY! Therefore, obviously I have no idea that 'Sex and the City' is simply a glittery realisation of every gal's wildest "female fantasy", right?!!
No doubt this so-called "fantasy" may be desired by a select few hen night-obsessive housewives craving cringe-worthy escapism from their "oh so poverty-stricken" lifestyle (ironically one laced with marble tiles, silk curtains and Egyptian cotton beds reeking of sickening imperialism!).
Does that mean therefore that no woman in this world craves a creative existence that isn't defined by dicks, handbags and hoards of GUCCI footwear?!! CATEGORICALLY NO! NO! NO! NO!
​All the more thrilling to see radically feminist and - let's be crystal clear - FEMALE writers ripping the serie's self-inflated bimbos to shreds for being putrid caricatures of womanhood!

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13 REASONS WHY (2017-)                                             SEASON 1 EPISODE 1 TV REVIEW

6/17/2017

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* 
15, 13 Episodes (Netflix)

Grossly insensitive and stupidly sensationalist.
This controversial Netflix-produced 13-part series centres around Clay Jenson (Dylan Minette) – a socially inept, high-school “geek” who finds himself infatuated with seemingly perfect new girl in class Hannah Baker (Katherine Langford).

Given the opening chapter appears to outrageously re-inforce every teen cliché in the book; naturally Hannah has no mutual feelings for the mild-mannered male protagonist. Of course, this is down to him being a “nerd” and not a “jock”!

“You’ll fill out someday…maybe” is Hannah’s blunt advice to Clay; suggesting any male not built like a brick outerhouse is frankly non-existent in this girl’s eyes.

As for Clay’s mousy shyness around her, Hannah views this as pure jealousy. “Is your dad also thin and nervous?” she bemuses. Call me old-fashioned, but when did a person’s body weight define confidence? Or at least when did we actually believe it truly defined such?

Moreover, does being “thin and nervous” make one less attractive or a horrid person?
The episode flits between two utterly unclarified time frames. One chin-stroking over Clay’s unintentionally creepy attempts at wooing his crush. The other, however, is grotesquely more offensive.

While we viewers are never exactly informed how far along this event takes place, the series’ much discussed central conceit surrounds that of Hannah’s unprecedented suicide.

Yet where one would expect this to provide foundation for a moving deconstruction of teenage mental illness, ’13 Reasons Why’ appears to wave such a subject around as if it’s a badge of honour! Or does it? ...

It’s not long before curious Clay receives a collection of anonymously sent audio cassette tapes fitted through his mailbox. Upon setting ears upon them, it is revealed to be the long lost voice of his deceased dream lover; intent on explaining just what led Hannah Baker to end her own life…

Or should I say – as this pilot seems to flippantly ram in our face – a virtually endless list of blame…

With a title such as “13 Reasons Why” alone threatening to tabloidize its deeply sensitive subject matter, arguably anyone should be wary of Writer Brian Yorkey’s show…
It’s no surprise therefore that – within at least 10 mins – one unreservedly felt his mouth plunging into a pillow; only to prevent himself from vomiting at something so monstrously manipulative.

For whatever you may have been told about the series being a harrowingly “real” eye-opener to the hidden world of cyberbullying, emotional abuse and body shaming, Episode 1 (entitled ‘Tape 1: Side A’) presents no smidgen of evidence regarding that…

Tonally skipping between schmaltzy melodrama, whimsy rom-com and trashy telly thriller, ’13 Reasons Why’ only coffee sips over it’s themes before mindlessly disposing of them as merely plastic pins on a crime map.

Undoubtedly many may argue that teenage suicide exploited as a plot device is no less inconsiderate than every throwaway ‘CSI’ case-of the-week murder streak. A point well made.

Yet in a world where mental health awareness is positively thriving, I can’t help, but find it slightly baffling that so-called "entertainment" like '13 Reasons Why' still exists.

This is essentially a fraudulently mopey exercise in ‘Twilight’ dirge. One that - while force-feeding dreary emo songs, wardrobe wooden acting and fatuously fabulist dialogue down your oesophagus – is unacceptably unconscious of its situation’s severity.

The show clearly aspires to be J.B Priestley’s ‘An Inspector Calls’, but this pilot problematically proves the distinct difference between analysing adolescent angst and deplorably screwing over society.

Unlike Channel 4’s terrific, Maisie Williams-starring ‘Cyberbully’ (2015) which laid out the digital dangers facing 12-18 year old girls with unbiased meditation; ‘13 Reasons Why’ seems duplicitous in its cynical “YOU DID THIS!” finger pointing.

Already, within its first hour, the show has Hannah gloating execrably about her naïve flings with a self-serving frat boy; only to later brutally chastise poor, well-meaning Clay when things go horrendously pear-shaped.

Indeed Hannah’s self-recorded tapes are ravished with bitter contempt for seemingly everyone around her, including those who clearly don’t deserve it.

As Hannah manipulates Clay into uncovering the truths behind her demise, one struggled to contain their inner hostility towards the Writer’s tension-milking treatment of these characters.

Not only does ‘13 Reasons Why’ appear to have an anti-PC checklist caricaturing every high school horror imaginable, but also criminally manages to degrade its core tragedy.

There’s not a drop of sympathy to be found towards a beautiful young woman; brimming with hopes and dreams and heartbreakingly stripped of such. Instead Writer Yorkey does nothing, but belittle her; largely making Hannah out to be a coward and attention-seeker – the exact stigma which mental health activists are passionately fighting hard to bust!


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BOX OFFICE BONANZA

6/5/2017

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‘Wonder Woman’ worked wonders this weekend!

The long-gestating ‘Wonder Woman’ whacked doubters to oblivion. Certainly if whopping weekend Box Office is anything to go by!
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Alongside rave reviews hailing “the best D.C movie since ‘The Dark Knight’”, Patty Jenkin’s Amazon blockbuster swallowed up a stellar $203 million within 3 days.

With a hefty budget of $149 million, the film has already eclipsed such; beckoning rousing success not only for D.C, but the world’s wondrous feminist community.

Given all the fuss surrounding female-only screenings of the high-flying film, it’s terrific to see audiences putting prejudices aside and attend in droves to D.C’s first female-led super-saga.

Indeed, in financial terms, ‘Wonder Woman’ may well be the most successful female flick of all time; not only led by a woman, but directed by one too.

Therefore, I really wish I could conjure more enthusiasm for it. Feel free to call me a freak, but I was never wowed while watching ‘Wonder Woman’.

On a feminist front, it’s certainly subversive and thrillingly so. Yet is there really anything else we haven’t seen before?

Beyond its furious warrior princess, the film played proceedings safer than sweaters; resorting to the standard formula of increasingly generic Marvel movies.

Both Gal Gadot and Chris Pine – widely praised for their performances – were bland and convoluted CGI chaos clogged the final hour.

Given this politically correct climate, may I wonder if this superhero movie had been male-headlined whether praise would be quite so universal. Moreover, had ‘Batman vs. Superman’ and ‘Suicide Squad’ been masterpieces, would we be on our knees in worship of Wonder Woman?

Still, this digital age of Twitter being the misogynistic black hole it is, reception being so radiant can only be treasured. At least, it’s not ‘Suicide Squad’!
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iBOY (2017) FILM REVIEW

6/4/2017

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​**
15, 90 Mins (Available on Netflix Only)

Maisie Williams can’t salvage this awkward mix of smartphone Sci-Fi and gangsta’ violence.
Continuing the popular trend of Netflix-funded films produced solely for streaming exclusively, this low-key Sci-Fi thriller adopts the concrete conceit of a run-of the-mill superhero blockbuster.

It being the tale of a bullied high-school loner whose success story comes in the wake of a tragic accident and the swanky superpowers acquired in its aftermath.
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That is despite a cheap-as-chips budget and a kitchen sink-esque East End setting; more in line with the grungy graffiti walls of Channel 4’s ‘Skins’ (2007-2013) than anything remotely across the pond.

‘Son of Rambow’s Bill Millner stars as this flick’s Peter Parker-esque geek Tom. A BBC-accented social outcast with a single mother, housed in a dreary flat and receiving regular beatings from a gang of brutish council estate thugs (bewilderingly mostly black and speaking in hideously caricatured Jafaican street slang!), Tom is unsurprisingly infatuated with a quirkily oddball “girl next door”. In this scenario, it’s ‘Game of Throne’s resident tomboy badass Maisie Williams; perfectly cast as the film’s take-no-shizzle spiky schoolgirl Lucy.

As one predictably expects, Lucy views Tom as little more than a casual “revision buddy”. Not the requited “crush” that our mild-mannered protagonist perhaps wishes she shared!
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It is only when lovely Lucy is violently assaulted by masked brutes in the comforts of her own home; that the two’s blossoming chemistry begins to spark. During a botched, fool-hardy attempt at playing “saviour”, Tom receives a blistering bullet to the brain! An injury from which he only slimly survives.

The incident inevitably allows our two lovesick outsiders to bond passionately; largely over a trip to the takeaway and a watery view of the Thames!

Too bad therefore that Tom’s skull is now implanted with cracked-up cell phone pieces! (YES HONESTLY!)

If you presumed proceeding couldn’t get any more laughably nonsensical, how about the revelation that – as a result of such a dilemma – Tom can now blink and hack into the tech of every human being on the face of the planet!

Yes. “iBoy” (hence the title) is the name of Tom’s alter-ego. The latest breed of superhuman intent on saving the world from Rory Kinnear’s corporate menace of a villain. A man obsessed with exploiting the hero’s unique skill set for his own commercialistic agenda.
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What’s the solution to this all? Could Lucy be the salvation to mankind’s technological dilemmas?

Think ‘Fight Club’ (1999) meets ‘Kidulthood’ (2006) with an injection of post-Snowden cyber surveillance and digital age paranoia.

Believe me, however, such a barmy mass of premises pales in plausibility compared with the head-spinning hokum at work here.

Indeed this is a film requiring absolute suspension of disbelief. For many viewers, likely too much so as ‘iBoy’ seizure-triggeringly whizzes from one high-flying Gherkin-inclusive location to another. Not unlike a Math’s class’s most hyperactive rebel if they’d snorted 200 lines of Cocaine!

Despite the film having an appalling Daily Mail-like vision of Britain’s Afro Caribbean population, however, its spectacular stupidity plot-wise is oddly amiable.

Undoubtedly, a substantial bulk of the film’s sporadic likability is down to its deliciously endearing leads. Milner is solid, but isn’t a patch on the unendingly talented Maisie Williams. One of the most gifted actresses of her generation, the “girl who is Arya Stark” (pardon the ‘Game of Thrones’ reference!) brilliantly exercises her lovably offbeat combo of kooky kid meets vulnerable soul with effortless panache.

There’s plenty of funky visual flourish too; centrally in the film’s miniscule yet iridescent cinematography. Innovatively upgrading London’s old-school architecture to glassy blue skyscrapers, ‘iBoy’ presents a city in-tune more with the high-tech dazzle of Hong Kong Martial Arts fare.

It’s a shame therefore that it feels the need to roughen its slick silliness with doses of distasteful street violence. Both unnecessary and tonally inconsistent with the subject matter, such geezerish scrimmages set a sour taste in the mouth; leaving viewers with a trashy, straight-to-DVD-style movie that is far less fun that its concept suggests.
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ENTOURAGE (2015) FILM REVIEW

6/2/2017

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*
15, 104 Mins

Materialistic male, puerile propaganda.
Perhaps there’s just one thing you need to know about ‘Entourage’ (2015) – the ghastly cinematic spin-off of HBO’s long-running “lads” show. Any production inspired by and celebrating the reprehensible pursuits of Tinsel town bad boy/racist/anti-Semitic Mark Wahlberg deserves to burn on a bonfire bigger than the Chrysler building!

Between 2004 and 2011, ‘Entourage’ dominated worldwide telly sets. Described as a male ‘Sex and the City’ (1998-2004) (that concept alone makes one want to thrust his face through a window screen!), the TV series centred around a gaggle of shallow, sexist, chauvinistic twentysomething “bros” pursuing their most hedonistic Hollywood fantasies.
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Despite having less talent or enthusiasm for acting than a Zac Efron-Will Shatner hybrid, this superficial, hard-drinking bunch succeeded at every turn. Whether it be preaching Golden Globes, speeding Ferraris rooftop down along Sunset Boulevard or screwing bikini blondes, we all wanted in on the entourage! (DO WE REALLY?!!!)

All the while, the loathsome lot seemed to receive not a creak of comeuppance for their debauched actions! You know why? ‘Cause they’ve got CASH! LOTS OF CASH! SO THEY MUST BE GREAT, RIGHT?!!

Of course, the world’s testosterone-fuming “BANTAAR” menaces lapped it up (who doesn’t identify with men obsessed with nothing, but the size of their parts, property and contents of wallet?!!). Didn’t stop hundreds of critics panning the show as a misogynistic glorification of an unsustainable red carpet lifestyle that most works would gleefully mock!

Ah well. Here’s the “LONG ANTICIPATED” film version!

It’s 2015 and Wahlberg-influenced A-lister Vince Chase (walkin’ wardrobe Adrien Grenier) and co. are ridin’ high on Ibizan seas!

Joining smackably smug Vince are inscrutably whiney failed actor/big bro Johnny (Kevin Dillon as arguably the unfunniest performer on planet Earth!), Tequila dealer Turtle (Jerry Ferrara) and lousy cheat Eric (Kevin Connelly) (a man so horrid he’d cheat on his singularly natural-looking pregnant wife for a botoxed bimbo!).

As you can expect, there’s yachts, pools and "babes". PLENTY OF THEM!

And so the “Entourage” have actively achieved their “American Dream” (CRINGES LOUDLY!); inviting audiences to play a bleach-bathed drinking game of how many times the stars mention “dick”, “f**k” or “hot” in the same sentence!

Naturally one would expect such repugnant jerks to be heading rapidly for cataclysmic downfall. Isn’t that usually the case in most antihero sagas featuring foul humans at the top?

Except the “entourage” aren’t antiheroes. THEY’RE JUST PLAIN HEROES!

The only antihero around is Jeremy Piven’s snivellingly self-obsessed Studio CEO Ari Gold. The character may be a disgraceful stereotype of a money-grubbing Jewish businessman, but there’s at least a minuscule attempt at deconstructing his career-driven, corporate agenda.

It is Ari who greenlights Vince’s planned strip show of a directorial debut or, should I say, a putrid orgy of Consumerist porn that makes Fox News seem lovingly liberal!

Justifiably, a couple of Hollywood executives are livid at the film project known as “Hyde”. The most vocal sceptic is a matted-haired, corpulent slob named Travis (‘The Sixth Sense’s Haley Joel Osment!).

This being a film where every “scum of society” is bafflingly either fat, coloured or mentally handicapped, Travis is unsurprisingly the target of entourage hate. Ironic given ‘Entourage’s scummiest are actually its toned and lean leads!

With Ari battling embarrassingly hard to rescue Vince’s abysmal piece from a snobby committee, we viewers are left praying to the high heavens for the bureaucratic board to cancel this clusterf**k of a production. That’s the joke, ain’t it? The joke being audiences laughing riotously at Commercialistic figurehead Ari having his greed shoved right back up his selfish arse?!

OH, OF COURSE NOT! Obviously the entire panel adore Mr. Chase’s revolting RedTube trash! Thus awards beckon for our vile central gang…

I have no reservations about my dislike of gross-out frat boy comedies; featuring utterly unredeemable egomaniacs spending every second and penny on penis toys, house parties and smokin’ starlets. However whereas ‘The Inbetweeners’ (2008-2010) found satire in its sex-minded blokes being the crudely crass losers of the high school crowd, ‘Entourage’s “entourage” couldn’t be more loved!

How bizarre given these are the kind of phoney posers, most girls would sprint 200 yards to get away from!

And yet every lady (here) wants to get laid with them! Not only casual passers-by, but the industry’s longest-ever conveyer belt of celebrity cameos!

Amongst those egging desperately for moments alone with men who can only be described as “YUCK!”, Emily Ratajkowski – best known for Robin Thicke’s ‘Blurred Lines’ music video – is a token, mostly clothed brunette. Clearly a pathetic attempt at diversity in a half-naked back-catalogue of dyed gold-heads in hot pants!

Further star-studded faces humiliating themselves include Jessica Alba as a gun-toting action queen refused leading parts due to her gender (HOW APPALLINGLY RETROGRADE?!).

Most heartbreakingly for me, however, came with a camera wave from my favourite Emma Stone. As she appeared to embrace the nasty crew with nothing, but genuine fondness; rarely have I felt so distressfully saddened. WHY EMMA? OH WHY! YOU’RE SO MUCH BETTER THAN THIS!

Only MMA Champ Rhonda Rousey seems morally outraged – her head-locking knockout of sleazy Turtle coaxing a brief chuckle from my throat. Albeit not one out of hilarity yet rather relief at a prejudiced prat receiving exactly what he deserves.
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Shame the same can’t be said for the rest of the film then.

‘Entourage’ revels in the vacuous emptiness of celeb obsession. The kind of sickening sensationalism that would cause even  the Daily Mail to suffocate on it's own vomit!

Every actress/model/musician is airbrushed and squashed in at the waistline, while choked in plastic surgery and fake tan. However each one seems sycophantically smiley and blissful, not stressed and tearful!

More creepingly, though, this is a film demonically possessed by deceitful Capitalist propaganda – an opening title sequence dripping with billboards clogged by names of cast members hyper-stylized as nauseatingly glitzy brand logos. It’s like a gigantic Rolex commercial masquerading as a ZOO Magazine cover. Screaming to the world that money, materials and mating are the three cures for masculine identity crisis. Meanwhile – if we all foolishly followed the “Entourage remedy” – any soul craving a deeper existence might as well go to hell!
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    Meet Roshan Chandy

    Freelance Film Critic and Writer based in Nottingham, UK. Specialises in Science Fiction cinema.

    Roshan's Top 10 Best Films of 2020

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