DIR: Seth MacFarlane • WRI: Seth MacFarlane, Alec Sulkin, Wellesley Wild • PRO: Jason Clark, John Jacobs, Seth MacFarlane, Scott Stuber • DOP: Michael Barrett • ED: Jeff Freeman • MUS: Walter Murphy • CAST: Seth MacFarlane, Liam Neeson, Mark Wahlberg, Amanda Seyfried
Every comedy needs a sequel. This much is true. Regardless of how one-note the comedic premise of a movie is, a joke is a joke, and should rightly have every last granule of life strained from it to take the maximum amount of profit from those only too content to spend money on seeing it.
Ted is no different. Ted is a cute teddy bear that sounds like Peter Griffin who constantly has filth seeping from his furry mouth. In and of itself alone, that is the alpha and omega of Comedy, the abso-laugh. It is hilarity defined. And, surely enough, Seth McFarlane’s comedic conveyer belt of a mind doesn’t fail to let us down here as the film opens. We find our cute cuddly curmudgeon being married to the tickelingly trashy Tammy-Lynn from the first movie. Does he take the bride? ‘You betchya f**kin’ ass I do’ says Ted. He’s in a church saying that! Outrageous. He’s a teddy bear.
As we cut to the opening titles, we are treated to Ted in an elaborate ballroom dancing number with a flurry of human dancers. There’s no jokes or comedic mis-steps involved here, per se. Indeed, there’s barely any discernible skill on show, it’s just a standard ballroom dancing scene. But as an idea, it is show-stoppingly hilarious. Close your eyes and imagine a teddy bear ballroom dancing. If you’re not smiling, you’re an idiot.
Some of the comedy in this movie is so cerebral I couldn’t quite figure out when I was meant to laugh. Like in the scene where Liam Neeson makes his cameo. He’s buying cereal at the store, and is dubious about purchasing it because it’s generally considered to be made for kids. There was a joke in there somewhere (and I fully intend on paying to see the movie again so I can understand it), but I laughed anyway because I saw Liam Neeson.
The best running joke from the movie is a testament to McFarlane’s forensic comedic eye as he notices that a certain appendage enjoys quite a prevalence on the internet. So, any time a Google search is invoked into the narrative, the characters are invariably directed to a particular website. When you see the film you’ll understand. And, of course, nothing makes anything funnier than some casual racial stereotyping.
It was also refreshing to see another comedy where all the best gags were included in the trailer. The only reason I went to see this movie was so I could witness Marky Mark being saturated in bodily fluid on the big screen. He is absolutely drenched in the stuff. Thank heavens that was in the trailer. Name one Charlie Chaplin movie that has a main character drowned in bodily fluid. You can’t. Because even Chaplin could never think to do something that funny.
Scenes involving weed and people being high are also inherently funny. Ted 2 is full of them and is much the better for it. Amanda Seyfried smokes bongs (that way, we know we’re meant to like her), they smoke bongs in the library, in the park. If you see a bong in movie you actually have a civic duty to laugh. At one point, the characters are forced to spend the night in a field full of pot plants – and then they actually get stoned on the pot plants. Who does that?! However, it isn’t until Amanda Seyfreid takes out a bong that is shaped like a certain piece of male genitalia that this movie comes into its own. It simply transcends wit.
I have untold affection for this film. I haven’t even got the time to go into the complex plot (Ted has to prove he’s human), because the amount of sheer comic gold that’s littered throughout. Ted 2 has reinvented the comedy genre for the better.
And if you haven’t realized I’m being sarcastic, then you would genuinely love Ted 2.
DIR: Jaume Collet-Serra • WRI: Brad Ingelsby • PRO: Roy Lee, Michael Tadross, Brooklyn Weaver • DOP: Martin Ruhe • DES: Sharon Seymour • Cast: Liam Neeson, Joel Kinnaman, Ed Harris, Vincent D’Onofrio, Bruce McGill, Genesis Rodriguez, Common
When Pierre Morel’s action thriller Taken was first released in cinemas back in 2008, many people were surprised to see the then-56 year old Liam Neeson taking on the role of anti-hero Bryan Mills.
While it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar territory for the Ballymena man – earlier roles in films like Rob Roy, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace and Batman Begins presented a physical challenge to the Academy Award nominee – it was seen as a departure for the man who has memorably brought real-life figures such as Oskar Schindler, Michael Collins and Alfred Kinsey to the big screen.
Yet, despite being filmed on a relatively meagre $25 million budget, Taken proved to be a resounding success, earning almost ten times that amount at the worldwide box office.
With two subsequent sequels proving to be even more profitable, Neeson has firmly-established himself as a bonafide action star, and although Martin Scorsese’s upcoming Silence may well find him back on prime dramatic form, he is showing no signs of turning his back on the genre that he has seemingly embraced with opening arms in recent years.
2011’s Unknown and last year’s Non-Stop had been marketed in a similar vein to Taken, and the towering Antrim-native teams up with the director of those films, Jaume Collet-Serra, in Run All Night. Taking place over the course of 16 hectic hours, Neeson plays ageing Brooklyn hitman Jimmy Conlon, who was previously a major player in the crime empire run by his best friend, Shawn Maguire (Ed Harris).
He is estranged from his son Michael (Joel Kinnaman), who eager to distance himself from the murky world that his father operates, and is forced to don a Santa costume as he attempts to pay off an outstanding heating bill. Michael is a now-retired boxer (and incidentally shares his name with a real-life Irish Olympic medallist in the same sport) who is employed as a limousine driver around the streets of New York City.
This is helping him (and his family) to make ends meet, but his life is thrown into chaos one night, when he crosses paths with Shawn’s son Danny (an unhinged Boyd Holbrook) and he subsequently embarks on the run with Jimmy, who has had to take matters into his own hands to protect his offspring.
What follows is fairly standard fare, as the Conlons reluctantly team together to evade the forces that gather around them – most notably Common’s bespectacled assassin – and ensure that Shawn’s lust for revenge isn’t fulfilled.
Much like the previous partnerships between director and star, Run All Night is an efficiently-produced thriller, which allows Neeson to bring a grizzled edge to a tortured character. The addition of the energetic Kinnaman (who has made his name stateside in The Killing and also assumed the lead role in 2014’s Robocop remake) make the role of Jimmy less physically-demanding that Neeson’s more recent “geriaction” exploits, and in contrast to the often cringe-inducing interplay with Maggie Grace in the Taken series, there is a refreshing lack of sentimentality in the father-son dynamic.
However, the theme of family is explored in great detail, with the widely-explored “sins of the father” cinema trope forming a major part of the film’s narrative. Indeed, if anything, it often takes itself too seriously, which may be a little off-putting for its potential audience.
When it focuses on the nuts and bolts element of the story (which also features Vincent D’Onofrio as Jimmy’s long-time NYPD adversary), it has a firm footing, and despite being overstretched at 114 minutes, it manages to maintain its momentum ahead of the blood-splattered final act.
While it isn’t the goriest film you will see this year, it resists the temptation to drop below an R-rating, a move that made the Taken sequels seem alarmingly sanitised. This does lead to some occasional misfires (there are some sexual references that look like they belong in a completely different film), but with Neeson and Harris displaying confidence in their respective roles, they register as minor complaints.
If you try to analyse Run All Night in the context of Neeson’s wider back catalogue, it becomes clear that it won’t be a film that will have a lasting effect on fans of his output. How much longer he can continue in these action roles is also up for debate, but until then, his latest offering works as perfectly serviceable entertainment.
DIR: Olivier Megaton • WRI: Luc Besson, Robert Mark Kamen • PRO: Luc Besson • DOP: Eric Kress • Ed: Audrey Simonaud, Nicolas Trembasiewicz • Cast: Liam Neeson, Forest Whitaker, Famke Janssen, Maggie Grace, Dougray Scott, Sam Spruell, Leland Orser
The third and allegedly final instalment of the Luc Besson-masterminded Taken series eschews the European settings of its predecessors for Californian locations, but in all other respects feels painfully rote. Sharing with prior instalments an inexplicable fascination for the family dynamics of rugged hero Bryan Mills (Liam Neeson) and his kin, Taken 3 tarries with sub-TV soap opera for close to half an hour before finally wheezing into action.
In narrative terms, the film replaces the straightforward seek-and-destroy storylines of its predecessors with a convoluted “wrong man” plot lifted straight from The Fugitive (1993). On this occasion, the Tommy Lee Jones part is taken by Forest Whitaker, turning in another dreadful performance that must surely put him neck-and-neck with Renée Zellwegger for the bleakest post-Oscar career. Meanwhile, the “surprise” villain will surprise nobody, although his identity will not be revealed here.
It’s not a spoiler, however, to confirm that this mystery villain is a man, because as per usual, the only women on screen are Neeson’s daughter, Kim (Maggie Grace), and ex-wife Lenore (Famke Janssen). Janssen, typecast as a frosty shrew in the first Taken film, seems ill-at-ease with her now-mellowed character, and one can’t help but search her frozen features for a flicker of relief when she exits the action feet-first early on. The Taken films have always had an Oedipal streak a mile wide, and in that respect the latest instalment does not disappoint – giving Neeson and Grace a handful of excruciating father-daughter scenes, including one in a toilet cubicle that concludes with Kim creating a diversion for her escaping father by pretending to urinate. Grace is a likable genre performer, but at 31 she seems uncomfortable playing a college student who uses her mother’s garments as security blankets.
Age, of course, is but a number in a Taken film, and those wondering how Neeson’s action hero is holding up at 62 will be pleased to know that he still does youthful things like jumping over police cars and listening to The XX. Neeson has always walked a fine line between the stoic and the stolid, and part of the limited appeal of the Taken series has been the oddness of seeing him in the kind of role Arnold Schwarzenegger might have passed on in 1988. Alas, oddness – as well as action – is in short supply here. A fight scene in which an antagonist brandishes a machine gun while wearing only a bathrobe and his underpants calls to mind the lunatic quality of Besson’s own films, but it’s an all-too-brief flash of conscious absurdity. Elsewhere, the film feels perilously low on ideas – climaxing with an airport set-piece that seems laughably puny compared to a similar scene in Casino Royale (2006). Neeson, and most of the rest of the cast, look like they’d rather be punching the clock.
12A (See IFCO for details) 108 minutes.
Taken 3 is released 9th January 2015.
DIR/WRI: Paul Haggis • PRO: Paul Breuls, Paul Haggis, Michael Nozik • DOP: Gianfilippo Corticelli • ED: Jo Francis • DES: Laurence Bennett • MUS: Dario Marianelli • CAST: Liam Neeson, Mila Kunis, Adrien Brody, Olivia Wilde, James Franco
Cults pray on those of us who suffer from excessive feelings of disconnection and alienation. Paul Haggis, former Scientologist, wrote and directed 2004’s Crash, an Oscar-winning argument in favour of the existence of quasi-mystical ties that both connect and redeem humanity. Crash followed a group of individuals, including Matt Dillon’s glorious forehead, as they tottered across the faultlines of their various prejudices, each eventually arriving at something on the spectrum between an epiphany and just deserts. The film’s plot was contrived, its analysis of prejudice fatally unsophisticated; still, Haggis’ faith in the power of human engagement granted his characters a sort of grace. An inscrutable moral sense animated everyone, almost-but-not-quite saving them from two-dimensionality. It’s tempting to put it all down to a displacement of faith in wacky ‘religion’ to one in a Tao-flavoured personal spirituality.
Third Person is an attempted rejection of that worldview. This is by means of obfuscation, sleight-of-hand, and an oftentimes nearly incomprehensible plot. We only have three storylines to deal with, at least. A writer (Liam Neeson) is working on a book in Paris when his young lover (Olivia Wilde) visits; an ex-soap actress (Mila Kunis) battles her child’s artist father (James Franco) for custody of the boy; a shady American (Adrien Brody) tries to help Monica (Moran Atias) find her daughter in Rome’s underworld.
So far, so Magnolia – so Love Actually. The cast is obviously strong, and bits of the scenery are in Adrien Brody’s mouth at all times. Something like the same graceful inscrutability is there. Mila Kunis’ Julia is a substantial and often unsympathetic creation, and the question marks that hang over her motivations are unusual in mainstream cinema. She’s the only character whose flaws aren’t retrospectively absolved by one or other of Third Person’s plot twists, under the weight of which the film starts to groan about halfway in. The sleight of hand that is the purview of the director of ‘Hyperlink Cinema’ (Roger Ebert’s term) then starts to look like self-abuse. Even the cinematography gets noticeably sloppier as things progress – a major sign of a lack of control or of money, of a piece of cinema ‘saved in the edit.’ And Crash’s misogyny rears its balding head. “Women have the incredible gift of being able to deny any reality,” a fatherly figure tells Liam Neeson. Monica is Roma, a thief and possibly a prostitute, and, ahem, ‘feisty’ – thus an irredeemable stereotype. And the ending – if only it were a statement of disgusted protest to walk out of a film once it’s over.
Third Person isn’t as terrible as the consensus has decided, but that’s the best thing I can say about it.
DIR/WRI/PRO: Michael Hewitt, Dermot Lavery • ED: Andrew Tohill • DOP: Mark Garrett • DES: Steve Saklad • MUS: Mark Gordon, Richard Hill • CAST: Liam Neeson
Road racing is one of the fastest and most dangerous of all motor sports with Ireland and The Isle of Man being the only two places in the world that it is legal. Despite this, it is as popular now as it was when the infamous Dunlop brothers first appeared on the scene. Narrated by Liam Neeson, Road is a feature documentary about the Dunlop family who have dominated road racing titles since the 1970s. With humble beginnings in Ballymoney, County Antrim, brothers Joey and Robert’s foray into the sport began with a love of racing friends on the back roads of their hometown. Throughout their careers they constructed and repaired their own bikes, always close to the mechanics of the sport.
A tale of two generations – the film weaves masterfully between Michael and William, sons of Robert Dunlop – who continue the family tradition into present day. This is executed beautifully through the use of archive footage, often reconstructing shots from the past and juxtaposing them against the two young men preparing for a race.
There are some wonderful moments in this film, and terrific racing footage from every vantage point of the machine. The documentary really gets under the skin of this family and their obsession with the sport with a lovely sense of these brothers, of who they were, throughout. Despite personal histories full of tragedy, the need these young men have for the sport is evident – and it is a need – which is wrapped up in identity and family tradition. This could easily be a fan film or a family memoir, but it avoids both. A worthy topic, well told.
DIR: Jaume Collet-Serra • WRI: John W. Richardson, Christopher Roach • Ryan Engle PRO: Alex Heineman, Andrew Rona, Joel Silver • DOP: Flavio Martínez Labiano • ED: Jim May • MUS: John Ottman • DES: Alec Hammond • CAST: Liam Neeson, Julianne Moore, Michelle Dockery, Scoot McNairy, Lupita Nyong’o
In Non-Stop, Liam Neeson plays Bill Marks, an Irish-American air marshal with a dark past and a drinking problem. (Standard – one wonders if it’s possible to get a career in the defensive forces without a tragic history.) While on board a long-haul New York/London flight, he receives a series of taunting texts from a mysterious stranger threatening to murder a passenger every 20 minutes unless $150 million is deposited in a bank account. His aggressive approach to preventing this puts him at odds with the passengers, crew, and TSA; and when the bank account is revealed to be in his own name, Marks is branded a hijacker. Stripped of his badge and gun (‘duty-free’?) and unsure who to trust, Marks must clear his name and get the passengers back on side before the real threat comes to an explosive climax.
Certain stylistic features of this film work very well. The appearance of speech bubbles on screen to show a text message is a device becoming popular since its use in such television series as Sherlock and House of Cards. Director Jaume Collet-Serra takes this further, projecting the flickering screen of a shattered phone and highlighted auto-fills as Marks types (though unfortunately for the film’s humour content, no auto-correct slip-ups), validating the use of text messages as a form of narrative delivery within a film. Similarly, the claustrophobic setting of the plane is well-captured – probably no doubt helped by Neeson’s hulking frame dominating the tiny space.
The film deals in some potentially rich themes here, too, with the gradual turn against Marks by everyone else involved with the flight. The difference between a state of hijacking and a state of emergency, and the threat to civil liberties through deference and compliance to perceived authority, is ripe for exploration. Unfortunately it’s treated with all the intelligence and subtlety as a fire extinguisher to the back of the head.
In terms of its plot, it would be unfair to call Non-Stop a Non-Starter – the initial premise is intriguing, menacing, and vaguely Hitchcockian in its ambitions. Call it ‘Strangers on a Plane.’ Yet somewhere along the line the low-key approach is completely abandoned in favour of toilet-based kung-fu, a sophisticated bomb concealed in cocaine, and television news channels streaming live onboard, asking of possible-hijacker Marks, ‘how do we know he’s NOT IRA?’ A certain suspension of disbelief is always required with any action caper, but halfway through it seems that the film is aware of this audience pre-disposition and shamelessly takes advantage.
With that in mind, those who enjoy Neeson’s latter-day action movie superstar mode will doubtless find much to enjoy here, with a number of well-choreographed fight scenes at 30,000 feet causing plenty of turbulence. Neeson is a great action star – his broad build, stern Roman features, and emotional range are perfectly suited to this genre. Along with fighting three men at once, he acts the hell out of looking at a phone, and has great chemistry with co-star Julianne Moore. He may be trying to save 150 people on board the plane, but Non-Stop takes a narrative nosedive in its third act that not even Liam Neeson can put right. The resolution to the whodunnit feels like a cheat, as does the motivation given for compromising the plane. The descent into cliché gathers so much speed that it crashes horribly close to parody; and the cheerful Hollywood ending fails to reconcile a number of loose ends about Marks’ no-doubt partially-disturbed mental state that doesn’t convince me he’ll come out the other side of this journey any better off. (Especially considering current exchange rates.)
A great mystery it’s not, and the frenzied, preposterous conclusion might be more ‘non, stop’ than ‘non-stop,’ but fans of Liam Neeson hunting, finding, and killing his man will certainly get more than enough of that. Fasten your seat-belts, it’s a bumpy ride.
DIR/WRI: Phil Lord, Christopher Miller PRO: Roy Lee, Dan Lin MUS: Mark Mothersbaugh DOP: Barry Peterson, Pablo Plaisted ED: David Burrows, Chris McKay DES: Grant Freckelton, CAST: Chris Pratt, Will Ferrell, Elizabeth Banks, Will Arnett, Nick Offerman, Alison Brie, Charlie Day, Liam Neeson, Morgan Freeman
‘You can see it when you look out your window or when you turn on your television. You can feel it when you go to work, when you go to church, when you pay your taxes. It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth.’
These words, famously stated by gatekeeper Morpheus to describe The Matrix in the iconic film from 1999, might at first appear to have little to do with The Lego Movie. How could the Wachowskis’ dystopian diatribe against the hyper-real, mass-media environment of the late 20th century have anything in common with a film which functions at its most superficial as a 100 minute advertisement for children’s brick-based playsets? Yet, some clear parallels can be observed in the story of an average man, traversing a metaphorical rabbit-hole to be told that reality as he knows it is a deceptive construction; but he is a long-promised saviour, come to fulfil the prophecy of shattering this illusion and saving the world.
The hero of The Lego Movie may even be more expressive than The Matrix’s Keanu Reeves – the yellow-faced Legoman, Emmett (Pratt), a mild-mannered construction worker. His daily routine is dictated by ‘the instructions’, a technical bible which guides him on how to fit in, make friends, and be happy. The (Lego) Matrix undeniably has him: We see it when he looks out the window to greet the day (to see every other Lego-man and woman looking out the window, greeting the day), or when he turns on his television (to watch the universally-seen sitcom, Where are my Pants?). It is a ritual-driven world, pulled over his eyes to protect him from the truth – which in this case, is that its seemingly-benevolent ruler, President Business, is secretly planning to destroy the world.
When Emmett accidentally stumbles upon a priceless relic, the key to disarming President Business’ most deadly weapon, he is mistakenly identified as ‘The Special,’ an extraordinary person heralded as the saviour who will thwart President Business. Recruited into a troupe of renegade ‘master builders,’ famous figures who play by their own rules, the overwhelmed and underprepared Emmett begins his quest through a maze of secret tunnels, other realms, and the idea that the instructions are just the beginning.
The plot is as by-the-numbers as Emmett’s instructions, but the joy of The Lego Movie is in its execution. Writer/director team Phil Lord and Christopher Miller bring the same self-effacing reflexivity to The Lego Movie as we saw in their previous zany capers, 21 Jump Street and Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs,which opens it up in a number of fairly astonishing ways for a film about Lego. Themes of conformity vs. creativity, free will vs. fate and determinism, along with surprisingly on-point commentary about monopolist multinational corporations and the increasing specialisation of Lego playsets reducing creativity and self-determination are introduced – but, fittingly for a Lego movie, in a playful and accessible way that can always be broken down and reshaped.
Visually, the film delights in its own ‘Lego-ness,’ with intangible properties like water, smoke and fire being rendered in the small round pieces and shiny plastic familiar from Lego sets, as well as using the interlocking characteristics of its bricks to great effect. While the action is largely computer-generated, it retains the erratic energy and aesthetic of stop-motion animation which perfectly complements the film’s humour.
The Lego Movie’s cast of characters is joyously brought to life by a hilariously self-aware script and lively voice-acting. Parks and Recreation star Chris Pratt brings his characteristic brand of earnest positivity and expert comic timing to our hero Emmett, a character believably out of his depth.
There are no missteps in the huge supporting cast either; Elizabeth Banks makes for a punky, articulate heroine, while Liam Neeson’s conflicted Good Cop/Bad Cop is a particular highlight, and Will Arnett’s Batman may be one of the most enjoyably self-aware portrayals of the character in recent memory. (Your move, Ben Affleck.) Alison Brie, Nick Offerman and Charlie Day capably round out the ‘who’s-who of US sitcoms’ filling out Emmett’s team as the bubbly Unikitty, mutant cyborg pirate Metalbeard, and Benny, The 1980-Something Spaceman. (Keep your ears peeled too for other famous cameos, including Channing Tatum and Jonah Hill from 21 Jump Street reprising their double act as a couple of superheroes.)
The Lego Movie, particularly in a striking third-act narrative rupture, could maybe be read as a metaphor for the state of the Lego corporation as it stands in the 21st century –as a battle between individual, creative thought and disciplined, specific model-making. But it can just as easily be seen as a hilarious caper about what happens when you stop following instructions and start having fun. Built to last, The Lego Movie could be Toy Story for the 21st century.
So Film Ireland magazine is 25 years old. Over those years Ireland has produced some great films which have been successful both here and abroad – not to mention nabbing a few Oscars® along the way. And so over the next couple of weeks Film Ireland‘s army of cinema dwellers look back over the last 25 years and recall their favourite Irish films in the latest installment of…
25 Years of Irish Film
Five Minutes of Heaven
(Oliver Hirschbiegel, 2009)
‘… features stunning performances by two of the finest actors ever to emerge from the island of Ireland—and thus by extension, the planet Earth …’
Can a BBC-produced film directed by a German fella named Hirschbiegel be considered ‘Irish’? For the sake of this installment of the ‘We Love…’ series, let’s just say it can. Best known for the brilliant and controversial 2004 film Downfall, which dramatized the last days Hitler in Berlin, Oliver Hirschbiegel certainly did his Irish homework for 2009’s Five Minutes of Heaven, an unsentimental examination of the difficulties of forgiveness centered on the murder of a Catholic man in Lurgan during the Troubles. The film has won multiple international prizes, including the World Cinema direction and screenwriting awards at Sundance. It also features stunning performances by two of the finest actors ever to emerge from the island of Ireland—and thus by extension, the planet Earth.
Hirschbiegel based his film on the real-life experiences of Alistair Little, a former UVF hitman, and Joe Griffin, who—as a young boy in 1975—witnessed the killing of his older brother Jim at the hands of Little. Both Little, who served 13 years for the murder and now works internationally as a conflict resolution specialist, and Griffin were interviewed at length for the film, but have never met. Five Minutes imagines a rendezvous between the two men more than 30 years after the murder, and the tension the film creates in the build up to this attempted rapprochement is what makes it so special.
The film opens with a reenactment of Jim Griffin’s murder by a teenage Little and his friends. The scenes are vivid and credible, accomplished using a cast of relative unknowns. Fast-forward to 2008, and middle-aged Joe Griffin and Alistair Little—played by the very well known James Nesbitt and Liam Neeson, respectively—have agreed to meet face-to-face for the first time on a TV show exploring the possibility of reconciliation.
Nesbitt portrays Joe as a chain-smoking bundle of nerves, permanently scarred by his brother’s death, resentful of Little’s reformation and his success as a world-travelled counselor to men of violence. He plays along with the TV producers and their Oprah-inspired desires to capture ‘the truth’ about his feelings on tape. But we find out quickly enough that he’s not there to provide Little with a final act in his ‘journey towards a magnificent redemption.’ Revenge, not reconciliation, will be Joe’s five minutes of heaven.
Neeson’s Little appears to be the polar opposite of Joe: all quiet and calm and self knowing. He speaks eloquently of his past crime, his shame, and his current mission to prevent other young men from falling in with gangs and terrorist groups. And somehow he knows that Joe’s not there to make peace, but he wants to see him nonetheless—we presume in order to help Joe move on.
“Time will heal they say… what everybody says about everything. The years just get heavier.Why don’t they tell you that? Nobody tells you that!”
And so the pieces are set in play, and the tension mounts as the meeting draws closer and closer. Thanks to Hirschbiegel’s expert documentary -style direction, Guy Hibbert’s intelligent (and at times very funny) script, and the commitment of Nesbitt and Neeson to their characters, that tension never lets up either—even when it’s revealed that Little is not a tower of strength at all but a sad, broken man, consumed by guilt, and Joe’s resolve to kill him starts to break.
There are no soap opera moments in Five Minutes. When the two finally meet—alone, far away from prying eyes—the confrontation is messy and nearly devoid of catharsis. In the end, it’s a glance of unconditional love from his daughter that helps Joe start the healing process. The final moment of resolution between Griffin and Little (a three-second mobile phone call) is about as un-Oprah as you can get.
Five Minutes is an impressive achievement and certainly one of my favorite Irish films in recent memory. By focusing on the deeply human tragedies and struggles of both protagonists, it avoids getting bogged down in partisanship or political name-calling—always a danger when tackling such complex subject matter. The film is not without its flaws. For instance, the bit about Joe’s mother placing the blame entirely on him for not doing anything to save Jim on that fateful night doesn’t ring true. It’s also a little implausible that no one in the TV crew notices Joe carrying around a machete in his underpants. Ultimately, however, the amazing performances of Nesbitt and Neeson help you to forget the imperfections and drive home the point that there are no easy fixes on the road to reconciliation.
Mossy Hare Productions (MHP) has finished filming of the feature documentary Behind The Sword In The Stone , which is based on the fantasy cult classic Excalibur from 1981 and which is now ready to go in post production with the help of the crowd funding platform Indiegogo (www.indiegogo.com/excaliburdoc).
The two filmmakers, Mark Wright and Alec Moore, also the founders of independent film production company MHP (www.mhp-films.com) based in Ireland, successfully interviewed the majority of the cast, including Liam Neeson and Patrick Stewart, from the film and its director John Boorman for what is proving to be an insight to the making of this epic movie and details of how difficult it was to make a film of this magnitude in 1981 before the days of CGI.
DIR: Olivier Megaton • WRI: Luc Besson, Robert Mark Kamen PRO: Luc Besson • DOP: Romain Lacourbas • ED: Camille Delamarre, Vincent Tabaillon • DES: Sébastien Inizan • Cast: Liam Neeson, Famke Janssen, Maggie Grace
Did anyone really want Taken 2?!
Back in 2008, when Liam Neeson loomed, intimidated and murder-killed his way through the heart of Paris to find his daughter, I left the theatre oddly impressed, assuredly thrilled and ultimately satisfied.
Daughter Kidnapped. Dad gets on the case. Albanian jerks soil themselves, die. Daughter rescued.
That’s Taken; a divisive if simple, singular tale.
So I’m lost as to why Team Besson deemed it prudent to grant the world further insight into the homicidal exploits of John Taken!* Regardless, affairs are in a sad state when 60 year old Liam Neeson, big though he is, gets lumped with this needless sequel, helmed by the man responsible for Transporter 3!
* This should have been his name from the start, folks!
Giving the performance of his life, Neeson/WolfPuncher enjoyed a legitimate career highlight with January’s The Grey. So we all know the man can act. Unfortunately he’s saddled with 90 straight minutes of buffoonish dialogue and a ridiculous American twang. Yes, he’s been naturalised as a US Citizen, but that Northern accent isn’t going anywhere in a hurry.
While Taken just about straddled the fine line between the plausible and the openly ridiculous, its sequel never quite knows which route to take, hedging every bet. For every instance of Neeson using his brain, doing something crafty, like estimating his location while blindfolded, listening for environmental markers, stuffing a miniature phone in his sock, we get Maggie Grace (who I have yet to be impressed with, in any role) detonating grenades in the streets of Budapest!
Themes of responsibility, consequence and justice are similarly muddied. The chief villain, an Albanian crime boss wronged by John Taken four years previously, decides to teach him a lesson about restraint by butchering him, his family and anyone else unfortunate enough to be in the camera’s frame.
There is no moralising here. There is no poignant lesson to be learned. Poorly choreographed, choppily edited violence begets poorly choreographed, choppily edited violence. And is resolved by same.
Whenever the cast aren’t spewing forth tired clichés and undercooked dialogue, Taken 2 slaps its audience in the face with some of the most poorly presented action this side of The Expendables 2. There is a (as in one!) car chase, a baton fight and a shoot-out. All of which should make you yearn for more talking.
And as for the practical joke of a final showdown, in which 6’ 4” John Taken kung-fus a short, pudgy Albanian rather than just, I don’t know, stepping on him?! Yikes. Neeson may be getting on in years, and he’s not exactly Jackie Chan, but this mismatch of sizes felt openly insulting to the hard-working lead.
Mercifully, Taken 2 isn’t a terribly lengthy endeavour. It has the manners to let you run for the exits inside of 90 minutes. And I say it’s fair we let poor Liam Neeson do the same. It’s hard to shake the impression he’s been bullied into this position, the aging action star, the badass granddad.
He made Taken 2. It was a disaster. Now, can we please let him go back to making more projects like The Grey now?
Neeson even admits, in this very feature, how he is ‘so tired of it all!’
DIR: Jonathan Liebesman • WRI: Dan Mazeau, David Johnson • PRO: Basil Iwanyk, Polly Johnsen • DOP: Ben Davis • ED: Martin Walsh • DES: Charles Wood • Cast: Sam Worthington, Bill Nighy, Danny Huston, Liam Neeson
Hang on to your undergarments: Wrath of the Titans is actually kind of good.
Doubtless, those of you who suffered through Louis Letterier’s 2010 Clash of the Titans will have long considered this a mathematical impossibility. Olympian Gods know I did.
But while it retains many of the flaws which so marred Clash, most notably Sam Worthington, Wrath is armed with vastly improved action and wisely slaps on some levity.
Because, let’s be honest, this mythical mash-up aint hardly Shakespeare!
Yes, the narrative is still meandering and unfocused. True, too much of the dialogue concerns solemn exposition of what is, by any normal standards, a wholly bonkers state-of-affairs. And, frustratingly, most action sequences fall victim to this plague of choppy editing which seems to have permanently bonded with Hollywood DNA.
So in this regard, by Zeus’ great, bushy beard, Wrath is still a pile of codswallop!
But what pretty codswallop it is.
The teams responsible for creature design deserve titanic praise. From six-armed, two-headed soldiers to mountains of anthropomorphic magma, Wrath boasts a selection of gruesome beasties and pretty costumes to keep the eyeballs amused.
Though still too sombre for my liking, newcomers Tony Kebbell and Bil Nighy’s respective quips and lunacy steal them every scene they’re in. And considering Wrath is at its worst when Worthington’s Perseus isn’t having his face rammed through a stone pillar or something, this newfound humour, however sparse, softens the blow.
And while the aforementioned action editing frustrates, new direction from Jonathan Liebesman has proved that bigger is assuredly better when it comes to films about fire-breathing nasties and demi-gods with flying horses.
For a film concerned with a titanic clash, Wrath’s predecessor was shamefully skimpy on the set pieces. Liebesman’s latest makes no such missteps, as audiences are never more than three minutes from a new monster, some CG assisted stuntwork or a set-demolishing duke-out.
The fact that its finale is agreeably meaty, features a divinely destructive duel, an expansive, magma spewing pitched battle and the sight of Wolf-Puncher* and Voldemort** staggering about, trouncing foes like a couple of dishevelled wizards, speaks of Liebesman’s ability to connect the dots appropriately.
Liam Neeson’s Zeus*
Ralph Fiennes’ Hades**
Taken out of context, Wrath of the Titans is merely fine, offering some colourful sequences and tremendously hideous beasties (that Chimera is a thing of grotesque beauty) but offering nothing in the way of arresting drama, tense romance or distracting belly laughs.
Most interested in Wrath however, will be looking to wash the bitter taste of Clash from their mouths. Rest assured, this is the sorbet you crave!
As a sequel, it shines, a beacon assuring flagging audiences that directors do listen, can improve on past mistakes and even eventually deliver on at least some of the promise of a title like Wrath of the Titans.
i.e. There are Titans. There is Wrath.
Rated 12A (see IFCO website for details) Wrath of the Titans is released on 30th March 2012
DIR: Joe Carnahan • WRI: Joe Carnahan, Ian Mackenzie Jeffers• PRO: Joe Carnahan, Mickey Liddell, Ridley Scott, Tony Scott • DOP: Masanobu Takayanagi • ED: Roger Barton, Jason Hellmann, Joseph Jett Sally • DES: John Willett • Cast: Liam Neeson, Dermot Mulroney
We have a lot to thank Luc Besson for. Before casting Liam Neeson in Taken, the actor was well known for his Oscar®-worthy performances, but afterwards he was seen as a legitimate ass-kicker. Unlike certain other tanned and ab’d ‘action stars’ of late, Neeson’s raw edge makes you absolutely believe he could beat the living daylights out of anybody.
And here we have The Grey, with Neeson reuniting with his A-Team director Joe Carnahan. But The Grey does not have any of the over the top antics from their last pairing, and nor does it have the giddy approach to violence that made Taken fun. No, The Grey is not fun. It is brutal and it is punishing and it will chill you to the bone.
Neeson is Ottway, a man hired by an Alaskan oil drilling company to keep their men safe by shooting any wolves that may wander on to their site. On a flight back home with the crew, an insanely tense and scarily real plane crash finds the few survivors facing off against the weather, hunger and the wolves. The movie has been primarily promoted as ‘Liam Neeson Punches Wolves’, but the film goes deeper than that, touching on some very primal fears of the modern man, and director Carnahan brings some of the same art-house touches that made his debut feature Narc stand out from the crowd.
Aside from Neeson, the only other vaguely recognisable face is Dermot Mulroney, with the rest of the cast all good in their annoyingly clichéd roles. But this is Neeson’s movie; he owns and commands every scene, even when he’s just in the background observing other people’s conversations, your eye is drawn to him. Had it been released a few months earlier, it’s not ridiculous to think he might’ve been in with an Oscar® shot. That’s how good he is in this movie, and it is him that elevates this from ‘That Wolf Punching Movie’ to something so much more.
The Kerry Film Festival has issued a call for entries for its 2011 edition. Running from 29th October to 5th November, it offers thousands of euro in cash prizes to up-and-coming filmmakers.
The main feature of Kerry Film Festival is a short film competition that focuses on young filmmakers and awards prizes in a number of different categories including: Best Irish Film, Best International Film, Best Documentary Film and Best Animated Film.
Winning films are selected by a panel of adjudicators, with past KFF adjudicators including Jeremy Irons, Noel Pearson, Liam Neeson and Gabriel Byrne. KFF also presents the Maureen O’ Hara award to a lady that has excelled in film, with Oscar-winning actress Juliette Binoche picking up the award in 2010.
The closing date for submissions is 1st August 2011. For more information and to download an application form please log onto www.kerryfilmfestival.com
DIR: Jaume Collet-Serra • WRI: Oliver Butcher, Stephen Cornwell • PRO: Leonard Goldberg, Andrew Rona, Joel Silver • DOP: Flavio Martínez Labiano • ED: Timothy Alverson • DES: Richard Bridgland • Cast: Liam Neeson, Diane Kruger, January Jones
The problem with films that rely on plot-twists is that the audience is already second-guessing everything they see, trying to work out the surprise ending before its properly revealed. This usually results in one of the three following outcomes: (1) the ending is so obvious that everyone guesses it within the first ten minutes. See: Hide and Seek. (2) the ending is so good that it will leave you blabbering on about it for hours, if not weeks, after the movie has finished. See: Se7en. (3) the ending is a total cheat because there was absolutely no way that you could’ve guessed it, and it doesn’t make a lick of sense anyways. See: Switchblade Romance. Unfortunately for Unknown, it falls firmly into this third category.
After Taken, Liam Neeson seems to be suffering from some kind of cinematic mid-life crisis, as once again Oskar Schindler is running around a major European city, kicking ass and taking names. Here he plays Dr. Martin Harris, who after a nasty car crash, wakes from a coma to discover his wife (January Jones, beautiful but with all the acting ability of a fax machine) doesn’t recognise him, and another man (Aidan Quinn, keeping up the Irish contingent) claiming to be the real Dr. Harris. So Neeson sets out to prove he’s not crazy, and try to find out why his life has been taken from him.
It doesn’t help that so much of the plot relies so heavily on contrivance. The car-crash that kick-starts the plot only happens because Neeson just happened to forget his briefcase at the airport. In the taxi back to the airport, his taxi just happened to be behind a rogue, falling refrigerator. (Yes, you read that right.) And said taxi just happened to be driven by an illegal immigrant (Diane Kruger, and if this is what an average Berlin taxi driver looks like, consider me booked on the next flight there), who can’t go to the police for fear of being deported. All these coincidences happen in the first ten minutes of the film, and they don’t stop there.
If only the film hadn’t taken itself so seriously, then perhaps it could’ve been a good slice of cheap fun. Director Jaume Collet-Serra previously directed Orphan, which was equally ridiculous and happened to have a perfectly-pitched twist ending. But here everything is given the po-faced treatment, with Neeson twisting himself into bitter anguish instead of having the kind of reckless fun he had in Taken. Add into this the appearance of acting heavyweights like Frank Langella and Bruno Ganz, and you know that they have aimed to make a serious A-movie out of trashy B-movie material.
But it’s not all bad; even when he’s slumming it Neeson is still the best thing in everything he’s ever done, the snowy streets of Berlin really add to the sense of foreboding paranoia, there’s a spectacular extended car-chase that’ll get the pulses racing, and for the last ten minutes the film does finally succumb to the giddy, tacky highs it should’ve been hitting throughout. However, once that twist is finally revealed, some of the smaller plot-holes you may have noticed earlier will disappear, only to be replaced by big massive canyons in logic. Prepare to be infuriated. Entertained, but infuriated.
Rated 15A (seeIFCO website for details)
Unknown is released on 4th March 2011
DIR/WRI: Paul Haggis • PRO: Olivier Delbosc, Paul Haggis, Marc Missonnier, Michael Nozik, • DOP: Stéphane Fontaine • ED: Jo Francis • DES: Laurence Bennett • CAST: Liam Neeson, Olivia Wilde, Russell Crowe
When your wife has been sent to prison charged with murder and your only hope of an appeal depends on the skills of your lawyer, who just happens to be the tall burglar from Home Alone, you should be concerned. And John (Russell Crowe) is certainly concerned as he believes his wife to be innocent. Concerned enough to consider breaking her out of prison despite his status as a middle-class parent and teacher who wears jumpers and drives an environmentally friendly Toyota Prius. The Next Three Days is an Americanisation of the acclaimed French thriller of 2008, Pour Elle, and is adapted and directed by Oscar®-winning writer and director of Crash, Paul Haggis.
The most appealing aspect of The Next Three Days is its attempt at realism. An early cameo by a thickly accented and heavily scarred Liam Neeson explains the complexities involved in a prison escape to the tame bespectacled Russell Crowe. Much of the film is taken up with this conundrum as our jumper wearing hero struggles under the mental, physical and financial strains necessary in planning and undertaking a prison break. When you consider that it took Michael Scofield twenty two episodes and several trips to a tattooist to bust his brother out in the TV series Prison Break you get a good idea of how much Jumper John has to accomplish in two hours.
Where The Next Three Days fails in spite of its admirable efforts at realism is in the casting of Russell Crowe as John. It’s like watching the familiar story of the ugly duckling played by a blonde bombshell who becomes a beautiful swan when she undergoes the transformation of removing her glasses and letting her hair down. If someone told you they were going to cast Russell Crowe in a film about a prison break you would say that makes sense because that sounds like something Russell Crowe could accomplish. Surely a Philip Seymour Hoffman or William H. Macy would be more comfortable in a jumper and spectacles and less inclined to undertake a prison break?
While it could have been tedious watching John of the Jumpers run into setback after setback, The Next Three Days instead makes for compulsive viewing as you begin to speculate that the film could well end with John sitting at home in his jumper and spectacles correcting exams while his wife endures in prison. You can’t help but nod in recognition as John searches the omnipotent Youtube for DIY videos on prison breaks and is rewarded with some interesting techniques on ways to open doors with a ‘bump key’ or break into a car using only a tennis ball. Good ol’ Youtube, is there anything we can’t learn from you?
Once you conquer the absurdity of Russell Crowe as a teacher who wears jumpers and drives the ‘mean but green’ Toyota Prius, The Next Three Days is a gripping thriller and well worth an evening.
DIR: Joe Carnahan • WRI: Joe Carnahan, Brian Bloom, Skip Woods • PRO: Stephen J. Cannell, Jules Daly, Tony Scott, Spike Seldin, Iain Smith, Alex Young • DOP: Mauro Fiore • ED: Roger Barton, Jim May • DES: Charles Wood • CAST: Liam Neeson, Bradley Cooper, Quinton Jackson, Sharlto Copley, Jessica Biel, Patrick Wilson
This is a sprawling mess of a movie obviously mashed together by dazed troglodytes under a bridge. What’s the point of it all? Surely there are better ideas for the action movie genre than merely rehashing an old TV series. And why does the fact that working with an established set of characters make it acceptable to produce a script that has all the imagination of a pig’s trough?
The A-Team tells the story of 4 lovable mercenary rogues who are trying to clear their names after being wrongfully imprisoned of stuff. The ’80s TV characters are brought to a cinema screen near you by 4 lovable rogues who are now trying to clear their names after being wrongfully attached to this pointless nonsense. Liam Neeson plays George Peppard’s Hannibal (Colonel) taking every opportunity to tell us that he derives much pleasure from the completion of a plan. Mr T’s BA Baracus (Lieutenant) is played by Quinton Jackson who has no time for dullards. Bradley Cooper is Templeton ‘Faceman’ Peck (Lieutenant) wooing ladies with his leery grin and coiffed thatch, and Dwight Schultz’s endearing non compos ‘Howling Mad’ Murdoch (lunatic pilot) is played by Sharlto Copley repeatedly demonstrating the fact that he’s several pages short of a script. Once these lovable rogues have established themselves as the A-Team, they are allowed to get on with the matter in hand; that being lepping about the shop roaring at each other and waving a variety of ammunition at baddies.
There’s really nothing to say about the performances in the film except that poor Neeson looks like he’s completely lost after taking a wrong turn and found himself in the cooking pot of a hungry native tribe. All the characters merely exist to facilitate the crash, bang, wallops of the action scenes, interspersed with some ridiculous dialogue. Manure shovellor/director Joe Carnahan serves up such sequences in the manner of prison slop, incessantly throwing them with neither thought nor care at the screen. The film hasn’t got the brains to be an ironic pastiche of the’80s TV series and hasn’t got the guts to breathe any sort of new life into it. The A-Team is spineless filmmaking bereft of ideas. The pedestrian action sequences, bad CGI and poor editing coupled with the puerile dialogue and ridiculous plot (not to mention BA’s anti-Ghandi subplot) make for one of the most irritating cinema experiences this year.
I can’t wait for the film version of Simon & Simon.
So rather than waste your money going to see The A Team, why not get your hands on the boxset of the original series – hell, even Boy George pops up in one episode. Now repeat after me: ‘In 1972 a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn’t commit. These men promptly escaped from a maximum-security stockade to the Los Angeles underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire the A-Team.’
Rated 12A (seeIFCO website for details)
The A-Team is released on 30th July 2010
Liam Neeson heads the cast of the action thriller Unknown White Male, currently in post-production. Directed by Jaume Collet-Serra (Orphan), the film also stars Diane Kruger, January Jones, Aidan Quinn, Bruno Ganz and Oscar® nominee Frank Langella.
Liam Neeson stars as Dr. Martin Harris, who wakes up after a car accident in Berlin to discover that his wife (January Jones) suddenly doesn’t recognize him, and another man (Aidan Quinn) has assumed his identity. Ignored by disbelieving authorities and hunted by mysterious assassins, he finds himself alone, tired, and on the run. Aided by an unlikely ally (Diane Kruger), Martin plunges headlong into a deadly mystery that will force him to question his sanity, his identity, and just how far he is willing to go to uncover the truth.
Unknown White Male was shot on location in Germany and will be distributed by Warner Bros. Pictures.
DIR: Atom Egoyan • WRI: Erin Cressida Wilson, Anne Fontaine • PRO: Jeffrey Clifford, Joe Medjuck, Ivan Reitman, Simone Urdl, Jennifer Weiss • DOP: Paul Sarossy • ED: Susan Shipton • DES: Susan Shipton • CAST: Julianne Moore, Liam Neeson, Amanda Seyfried
Chloe, the latest from Armenian/Canadian director Atom Egoyan follows hot on the heels of his previous offering, the mind-numbingly dull and pretentious treatise on terrorism, memory and truth which was Adoration. His latest, an erotic thriller, is more of a mainstream genre piece, and marks a return towards form for the man who gave us Exotica (1994) (shortlisted for the Palm D’Or) and The Sweet Hereafter (1997) which earned Egoyan a nomination for best director at the Oscars®.
Chloe tells the story of Catherine, a successful gynecologist played by the extremely bankable and reliable Julianne Moore, who, suspecting her music lecturer husband David (Liam Neeson) of infidelity, hires Chloe (Amanda Seyfried), a young escort to test David’s resolve against her seduction techniques. Catherine meets up surreptitiously with Chloe for updates on her husband’s alleged misadventures and seems initially reluctant to be regaled by the saucy details but is masochistically turned on by the lurid accounts, reminding her of her redundant sexual relations with her husband. Catherine’s relationship with Chloe is initially intended to be on purely business terms but develops uneasily as Chloe’s obsessive mental state is exposed and her motives, as well as Catherine’s, become questionable and increasingly disturbing.
The movie opens beautifully where the juxtaposition of the lavish and fetishistic dressing of Chloe and her sexy attire is set in stark contrast to her cool voiceover outlining the raison d’être for her choice of occupation, citing it as a necessary economic and social function. Egoyan then paints the picture of a seemingly successful upper middle class marriage expertly; all opera, fancy restaurants and dinner parties, but all is not well behind the sparkly champagne-tinged veneer as David misses his own surprise birthday party and Catherine intercepts an ambiguous photo message on his phone from one of his female students. Catherine is struggling to cope with a stagnant sexual life, her husband’s flirtations directed at younger women and her own perceived undesirability. She even seems jealous of her teenage son’s active sexual life as she reprimands him for sleeping with his girlfriend. She seems disillusioned with sex, describing an orgasm to a female patient who has never experienced one as simply ‘a series of muscle contractions’ – a reflection of her own frustrations. Egoyan tackles the issues of supposedly exclusive male infidelity, female suspicion and insecurities over the ageing process, weaving them together and fleshing them out in the suspense-laden narrative.
Neeson gives an assured performance as David, an ageing and egotistic lothario with a penchant for seedy flirtation, while Moore excels as the elegant but neurotic spouse (close to Desperate Housewife character Bree), despite veering towards haughty melodrama at times. Amanda Seyfried gives a confident performance as the Cherub-faced, titular character, a far cry from the all singing, all dancing blonde teenybopper of Mamma Mia. However, her performance as a black widow lacks the bite of Glenn Close’s in Fatal Attraction or Sharon Stone’s Basic Instinct. While her childlike vulnerability and Lolitaesque sexuality is used to good effect as she expertly manipulates members of Catherine’s family, it ultimately stops her from seeming really threatening and dangerous. The main problems however, lie in the screenplay where it seems Egoyan ran out of steam when writing the third act. The film, although pieced together nicely until the last third, and shot beautifully with a lustrous score, peters out quite undramatically in its staid and clichéd climax – hardly the bunny boiler scene of Fatal Attraction. The accompanying denouement also seems hurried and unrealistic. The sex scenes are erotically charged, one standout scene in particular between two of the main characters, without giving too much away will surely rank highly on some Channel Four Top 100 countdown show in the near future, and is slightly reminiscent of a scene in David Lynch’s Mulholland Dr.
Chloe marks a significant thematic departure for the Armenian/Canadian auteur whose previous films have mainly explored issues of displacement and personal alienation and isolation in a technological age. Egoyan can’t help but expose his Luddite preoccupations however, in a scene where Chloe gives a CD to Catherine’s teenage son extolling to him the virtue of this antiquated but personalised medium over the alienating practice of MP3s and filesharing. Apart from this diversion, Chloe stays close to formulaic mainstream territory. It is an accomplished but flawed genre piece, an erotic melodrama when it should have been a thriller.
DIR: Oliver Hirschbiegel • WRI: Guy Hibbert • PRO: Eoin O’Callaghan, Stephen Wright • DOP: Ruairi O’Brien • ED: Hans Funck • DES: Mark Lowry • CAST: Liam Neeson, James Nesbitt, Anamaria Marinca
The collaboration of Oliver Hirschbeigel (director of Downfall) and Guy Hibbert (writer of Omagh) is a wholly inspired choice for this reflection of the troubled history of Northern Ireland. While Five Minutes of Heaven may struggle under the expectations of this partnership, it remains an intriguing and thought-provoking look at a world still largely misunderstood.
The film tells the personal tale of two fictional victims of this hostile world, linked by the murder of 19-year-old Jim Griffin. One is Alistair Little (Leeson), Jim Griffin’s murderer, and the other is Joe Griffin (Nesbitt) – Jim’s younger brother and sole witness to said murder. Although the film presents both as victims, both men appear sympathetic and unlikable in equal measures, allowing audiences to decide their own beliefs on the topic at hand and creating thrilling moments of terrific drama.
However, the superb drama eventually deflates with a conclusion both underwhelming and unsatisfying. Still, this remains a must for anyone interested in the troubled history of Northern Ireland, and remains a solid slice of cinema for everyone else.