Archives For November 30, 1999

Israeli Writing/Directing team, Aharon Keshales and Navot Papushado, have provided in this, their second feature, a lavish buffet of dark treats that punctures the concept of machismo and questions whether the punishment can ever suitably fit the crime.

On a bright day in Israel, a Religious Education teacher is kidnapped by two men: one is the father of a recently murdered child and the other a dirty cop looking to solve a spate of similar atrocities. Hidden in the basement of a country cottage and believing themselves to have their man, they devise ways to torture a confession out of their hostage.

The subject matter is bleak, but Big Bad Wolves also manages to be perversely funny. Our torturers take time out from breaking fingers, so one can take a call from their abrasive and interfering mother. This constant switch and bait of the genre could easily derail everything. However, in the hands of Keshales and Paushado, it’s an act of plate spinning that really pays off. The film’s humour sharpens the nastiness before and after rather than providing a welcome reprieve.

Tight scripting, solid performances and a killer ending add up to a film that proves genre filmmaking isn’t limited to the US and Australia.

This review previously appeared on earlybirdfilm.com.

 

Mindhorn (2017)

June 13, 2017 — Leave a comment

Given a worldwide release via Netflix, as well as a theatrical stint in the UK, Mindhorn is the brainchild of Julian Barratt (Aaaaaaaah!) and Simon Farnaby (Bunny and the Bull), who worked together on the wildly popular Mighty Boosh. Directed by Sean Foley (Brass Eye), Barratt plays Richard Thorncroft, a washed up actor reduced to appearing in embarrassing adverts for socks. However, it wasn’t always like this. In his heyday, Thorncroft had his own TV show in which he played Detective Mindhorn, a crime fighter who could see the truth in people through the use of his Six Million Dollar Man-esque bionic eye. It’s a show that’s all but faded into obscurity, save for its successful spinoff show starring Thorncroft’s former co-star, Peter Eastman (Steve Coogan). Oh, and it also plays a large part in the life of Paul Melly (Russell Tovey), a man wanted for murder and who believes only Mindhorn can help him. As in the actual Mindhorn… Enlisted by the police, Thorncroft returns to his former show to prevent another murder and, hopefully, get his show rereleased on DVD. A man has got to dream right?

The aforementioned Coogan covered similar ground in Alpha Papa, which saw radio DJ Alan Partridge caught up in a hostage situation at his place of work. Whilst Mindhorn never reaches the same heights as Alpha Papa, it manages to do enough to brush the former away and set up its own little world. Thorncroft is more pathetic than Partridge, who had his incompetence justified by never actually being out of work or money. Whilst Thorncroft is willing to use a tragic death to boost his popularity, fate has pre-emptively punished him by taking his hair, his looks and letting his former lover, Patricia (Essie Davies), run off with his ex-stuntman (Farnaby). Returning to Isle of Wright, where Mindhorn was filmed, is a lot like Gary and the gang returning to Newton Haven in The World’s End. It opens up old wounds, emotionally cripples Thorncroft and throws him into life threatening situations. See, this is why you never go home!

Much gentler in its comedy than its pedigree would suggest, Mindhorn manages to be surprisingly touching at times with Barratt generating enough sympathy from his audience that you end up wishing him well in his ill-deserved second chance at success. This is a man who has crushed his friend’s underfoot just to release a solo album, but when we witness him atoning for his sins, you can’t help but want to give him a hug. Throw in the absurdist humour you’d expect from the former Howard Moon, as well as several pot-shots at the high concept shows of the 80s and 90s, and Mindhorn offers up more than enough laughs to get you through an evening.

The truth about The Red Pill is that you’ll already know if this is the kind of documentary you want to watch. You’ll have heard it shouted about on news programs, with whispers shared on its dubious politics in dark corners of social media. You may have even read how it was funded by the very people its investigating, which is certainly a headscratcher in terms of conflict of interest. Its premise is simple: actress turned filmmaker Cassie Jaye delves into the world of Men’s Rights Activists (MRAs) and, whilst in deep discussion with numerous members, begins to question her own feminist beliefs. It’s a sort of coming of age tale for the moderate right. Returning to the reputation that precedes it, you’ll no doubt have heard about The Red Pill being chased out of cinemas that have bowed to protests from those who feel Jaye’s findings are too confrontational. Whilst The Red Pill doesn’t overtly champion the problematic elements of the MRA movement, neither does it question them.

Most documentaries set out with an agenda, whether it be to push a political message ala Fahrenheit 9/11 or expose an injustice as seen in the heart-breaking Silence in the House of God. Boldly, The Red Pill attempts do both, succeeding in neither. Things are off from the start when Jaye drops her initial agenda soon after she gives her introductions. Having discussed her own feminist views, Jaye touches upon rape culture and the likes of Paul Elam, the founder of A Voice for Men, who deliberately elicit responses from people by touching upon these topics with an acidic tongue. Jaye expresses dismay at his caustic and problematic words and sets out to question him, and others, about their views. And whilst she certainly gives them a platform to share their thoughts, she never fulfils on her promise to question them on the things they’ve said. In fact, she never questions anything anyone says, from the left or right. Her only real thoughts on the matter are expressed through staged ‘private’ video diaries that purport to showcase her drifting from the ideals she held close to her heart. Videos that look anything but candid. There is no long winding path to anti-feminism; Jaye cuts her chords to the movement so quickly, it’s surprising it didn’t flick her in the eye and blind her.

Put bluntly, one of the biggest issues with The Red Pill is how badly it’s put together. Whilst there’s some traction to be had dissecting the extremism that can be found on both sides of the political spectrum, The Red Pill buries it under hearsay and second hand tales. There are too many occasions where someone heard something about someone else that someone else did which led that first person to decide that feminism is wrong. It’s the kind of rhetoric you’d find on website comment boards. Whilst watching, I was reminded constantly of documentaries like Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed, a Ben Stein vehicle that attempted to shed light on a prejudice that supposedly runs deep in America’s education system in which educators who believe in creationism are persecuted. In actuality, the film was a hodgepodge of edited interviews and quotes taken out of context, where the funniest moment came from Stein trying to convince his audience that atheist pit-bull Richard Dawkins really believed in creationism. Likewise, there’s Are All Men Paedophiles?, a troubling documentary that massaged the facts to lead its audience to a predefined conclusion and made everyone who saw it want to have a scalding hot shower. Okay, The Red Pill didn’t make me want to have a shower, but it did take me a while to stop shaking my head. Statistics are twisted, fingers are wagged, lines are drawn but nothing is said.

Regardless of what side of the political fence you sit on, you don’t have to go too far to engage with others who aren’t as likeminded. Type any number of political hot potatoes into Google and you’ll find your curiosity quenched. The Red Pill might claim to offer an alternative viewpoint, but it says nothing that hasn’t already been heard a million times before. In my eyes, it doesn’t invite conversation, it screams in an echo chamber with its fingers in its ears, unpacking nothing and offering even less. It deals in absolutes, without any shades of grey, that simply drives the wedge further between ‘us and them’ whilst dealing out blame using the same broad strokes it accuses its opposition of doing.

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And so it comes to pass that another celebrity leaves the internet. In this case it’s Leslie Jones, star of Saturday Night Live and the new Ghostbusters movie.

Having endured a day’s worth of tweets that focussed on her race – none of which I care to repeat – Leslie signed off saying she felt like she’s living in ‘a personal hell’. Go through her Twitter feed and you’ll see her tweets go from bewildered to downright rage fuelled to, most depressingly of all, a woman whose soul has been crushed. At one point, fake screenshots were created and distributed, trying to paint the comedian as an anti-Semitic homophobe. Screenshots that were circulated by a right-wing ‘journalist’ (whose name I will refrain from using for fear the utterance of his moniker will lead to him finally being crushed under the weight of his own ego).

‘I didn’t do anything to deserve this,’ she states in a penultimate despairing tweet. And she’s absolutely right. This has gone from being about your childhood being ruined, to deliberately trying to ruin someone’s actual life.

I’d like to say that having rallied around her, poking fingers and spraying her with enough vitriol to feed a BNP rally, some would have realised the folly of their idiotic behaviour. However, and perhaps predictably, the Twitter twits doubled down on their behaviour, arguing that it was ‘banter’ or, brandishing the clearly faked screenshots, telling her she had it coming. Some went so far as to say that her being in Ghostbusters alone was enough reason to crucify her with disgusting racist comments; killing any last shred of credibility the Ghostbros were hanging onto that hating this remake ‘wasn’t about women.’

And whilst Jones has left the Twittersphere, the culprits remain at large; pinning their offensive tweets to their feed like a dentist promoting the death of another freshly killed sentient being. They snigger and guffaw. They presumably high five themselves on a job well trolled. The ‘journalist’ (who again I refuse to mention in case he explodes from the joy of name being shot out into the electronic ether) has dismissed the events of the previous day, suggesting Leslie will get her revenge when she gets to punch a facsimile of him in Ghostbusters 2. Something that is very unlikely to happen because even Sony will have caught onto the fact that merely whispering his name keeps him alive for ten more years, and no one deserves to be immortal. As I type he is starting a fight with Will Wheaton and blaming feminism for his co-opting of a movie that was meant to make people laugh, and using it to tear a person down.

And what of Twitter? Well, their CEO reached out to Leslie two hours before she quit – and so after several hours of abuse – asking her how they could help. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand that what was needed was an automatic block of those sending the offensive tweets. So far they’ve just blocked the aforementioned ‘journalist’, but even now, a quick search under Leslie’s name will dig up a hundred more vicious assaults against the actor, all sent after she left.

I’ve reported a number of these accounts and I find it bitterly amusing that, upon doing so, I’m given the option to simply ‘block’ the offender; as if somehow protecting my sensitive little eyes will be of benefit to those receiving the actual abuse. I’m not reporting these folks because I’m all emotional, I’m doing it because I want to see a change on social media. One that stops people from hiding behind an unearned cry of ‘what happened to freedom of speech?!’ I want it so that in 2016, minorities of any kind are not chased off Twitter by the 4chan gestapo.

This should not be a radical thought. And yet, every time I report something on Twitter or Facebook – which is another barrel of policies and guidelines drawn with crayons that will make you pull your hair out in frustration – nothing seems to happen. Heck, I even reported a death threat I saw sent to former Australian PM Tony Abbott and was told by the blue banner social site that they didn’t see anything that violated their guidelines.

There is some irony to all this. The supporters of the ‘journalist’-who-must-not-be-named-and-now-can-no-longer-use-Twitter are calling out the social network site for being ‘fascist’ and even arguing that being gay is the reason he’s been banned, and not because of his constant abuse. Whereas Leslie Jones was meant to suck it up and get on with her life, this one man’s blocking is seen as an indictment of everything that’s wrong with the ‘loony left’ and be turned over. Nope, no double standards here.

Those who cry that everyone is too politically correct, and that no one is allowed to say anything, are wrong. The truth is that everyone is allowed to say whatever they want. However, that doesn’t mean everything you say is meant to be agreed with. And once you start deliberately targeting people because of their race, religion, sexual orientation, gender or simply because they are a starring in the remake of a film that has Bill Murray sexually harass one of his students and Dan Akroyd get jiggy with a ghost, then you are not debating anything. You’re just being vile and insidious. And whilst the social media giants refuse to do more to protect their users, this will continue, which is the rotten cherry on this whole disastrous cake of garbage.

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With the tenth series of Doctor Who presently in production, if you’re like me you’ll be waiting for the inevitable ‘EXCLUSIVES’ to appear in the tabloids. Their often on point and are certainly not cobbled together from fan sites and forums. Nope.

To tide you over for next five minutes till the next ‘EXCLUSIVE’ comes out, please accept this free cut-out-and-keep instant Doctor Who press release. Simply choose a word from each of the numbered lists, insert them in the relevant part of the paragraph below and VOILA your own piece of tabloid hearsay.

Enjoy!

The TARDIS is in for a bumpy ride during Peter Capaldi’s latest season as the Doctor Who, and not just because of newcomer Pearl Mackie as latest companion, Bill. TV’s favourite (List 1) will be going up against the Veep star as fan favourite (List 2). Sources close to the BBC quoted the producers as saying ‘(List 1) is one of tv’s most (List 3) stars so Series 10 is sure to start with a (List 4)’.

List 1

  • Fern Cotten
  • Anthony Cotton
  • Theresa May
  • Five Star
  • Simon Callow
  • A toaster
  • Davina McCall
  • Jude Law
  • Lady Gaga
  • Ricky Gervais

List 2

  • The Master
  • Anne Droid
  • The Rani
  • The Yeti
  • Nestene Consciousness
  • Morbius
  • A Toaster
  • Jude Law
  • The Kandy Man

List 3

  • Exciting
  • Iconic
  • Sexy
  • Troubling
  • Drug free
  • Tiresome
  • Jude Law-y
  • Happy
  • Melancholy
  • Gassy

List 4

  • Bang
  • Fart
  • Damp squib
  • Sense of foreboding
  • Brexit
  • Jude Law