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Run for Your Wife (2013)

January 28, 2018 — Leave a comment

It’s fair to say that Danny Dyer plays to type. The great mockney of all mockneys is not known for his chameleonic performances; he’s never going to be mistaken for the Lon Chaney of his generation. We shall never hear the following words uttered: ‘And the Academy Award for Best Actor goes to… Danny Dyer for his performance in Wat Choo Looking at Bruv.’

So, when he took on the lead in the big screen adaptation of Ray Cooney’s bawdy farce, Run for Your Wife, we all crinkled our brows and went ‘derp?’ After all, based on previous performances, Dyer is to comedy, what Liam Gallagher is to wit and reasoned debate. Isn’t that right, our kid?

And it looks like my chin stroking and feverish worries are justified. Like Big Ben chiming on New Year, Dyer hasn’t let us down. He is dreadful. But that’s like swimming in the sewers and worrying about the turds that surround you, when one has dropped into your mouth. Run for Your Wife just doesn’t work artistically, amusingly or even ironically.

Directed by Cooney himself, the film sees Dyer as a Landahn cabbie, who manages to hold down two marriages through meticulous planning and talking through his arse. Wife one (Denise Van Outen) believes he does night shifts, whilst wifey number two (Sarah Harding) believes he works during the day. Which, just to digress for a second, doesn’t make a blind lick of sense. Anyway, helping a bag lady from being mugged (Judi Dench says ‘fuck’. Chortle!), Dyer is knocked out and spends the night in hospital. With his schedule out of whack, he runs around trying to stop everyone, from his wives to the police, from finding out about his bigamy. All whilst being helped by his dopey neighbour played by Neil Morrissey. If only The Vanishing Man had caught on, eh Neil?

It is fair and justifiable to say that the plot to Run for Your Wife is absolute balderdash, with jokes set up in a manner we haven’t seen since A Few Best Men. When Morrissey is given custody of a chocolate cake and told to look after it, you sit there like prisoner of war waiting for the depressing inevitability of it all.

Run for Your Wife harks back to a particular age of cinema. An age that saw the Carry On movies in their last death rattles, big screen adaptations of TV programmes where the whole cast go to the Costa Del Sol, and sitcoms dressing racism up as the loony left getting their knickers in a twist. In Run for Your Wife, Christopher Biggins and Lionel Blair play a couple, one of whom wears women’s clothing, and that’s the joke, apparently. It’s the kind of knuckle dragging stereotyping we thought couldn’t be topped by Shame’s ‘Having sex with gay men is terrible, right?’ ending.

But it gets worse.

The final act of the film sees everyone running around with their pants around their ankles and being accused of being gay or a transsexual. And we really need to focus on that verb, ‘accused’. The number of times Dyer and his motley crew puff out their chests and go on about how they luv the birds is frankly embarrassing. You could argue that you’re supposed to laugh at their protestations, but we’re pretty sure that’s a weak argument. The joke seems to be: pretending to be gay equals hilarious. Imagine being gay?! Ugh!

Presumably in an attempt to lend the film some credibility, the whole sorry affair has been swaddled in numerous cameos from the Ghost of Light Entertainment. There’s a reason why the night sky was dark whilst filming Run for Your Wife. All the stars were here. Russ Abbott, Bernard Cribbins and, in hindsight, an ill-judged Rolf Harris are just some of the faces cropping up to persuade you that you’re watching comedy gold. When Andrew Sachs, dressed as a moustached waiter, pratfalls his way into the lap of Anthony Head, you don’t laugh. You just wish you were watching Fawlty Towers.

Slow, idiotic, offensive and downright insulting to logic, Run for Your Wife is 2013’s answer to The Room… But without any of the fun.

In Blog, Film, Film Reviews Danny Dyer, Denise Van Outen, Run For Your Wife, Sarah Harding

December Film Round Up

January 25, 2018 — Leave a comment

Here’s everything I published in December.

Better Watch Out (2017, Dir: Chris Peckover) – ‘Better Watch Out has a more modern axe to grind in the shape of 2017’s biggest trend, toxic masculinity.’ Read the full review here.

Bunny and the Bull (2009, Dir: Paul King) – ‘Bunny and the Bull is a delightfully quirky, extremely well crafted comedy.’ Read the full review here.

Demons (2017, Dir: Miles Doleac) – ‘Demons, written, directed and starring Miles Doleac (The Hollow), is not about demons in the fire and brimstone sense. It’s about the personal demons that stalk us daily.’ Read full review here.

Doctor Who: Twice Upon a Time (2018, Dir: Rachel Talalay) – ‘Surprisingly streamlined and as emotional as you would want it to be, Twice Upon a Time was… brilliant.’ Read full review here.

In This Corner of the World (2017, Dir: Sunao Katabuchi) – ‘Sombre in some moments and bursting with joy in others, In This Corner of the World is a treat for the eyes and heart.’ Read full review here.

Nightworld (2017, Dir: Patricio Valladares) – ‘By the time the film decides to do something interesting, it’s already too late.’ Read the full review here.

Paddington 2 (2018, Dir: Paul King) – ‘Paddington 2 is ridiculously heart-warming. It has no right to be this nice, and loving, and caring, and not come across as naïve.’ Read full review here.

The Survivalist (2015, Dir: Stephen Fingleton) – ‘Equally impressive is the film’s gorgeous backdrop, which, because of its beauty and bold colour, highlights the bleak pantomime playing out before us.’ Read full review here.

In Blog, Film, Film Reviews Demons, Doctor Who, First doctor, In This Corner of the World, Nightworld, Paddington 2, Paul King, Peter Capaldi, Rachel Talalay, The Survivalist, William Hartnell. Better Watch Out

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2018)

January 7, 2018 — Leave a comment

‘Anger begets more anger’; that’s the running theme of Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. It’s even spelt out to the audience in the film’s final act via a 19-year-old intern (Samara Weaving), who appears to the only one not effected by the events playing out in her small town. Events set off by one mother’s righteous anger.

Mildred Hayes (Frances McDormand) is that mother, and seven months ago her daughter was violently murdered on a night out. Apoplectic with fury at the lack of progress being made by the local constabulary, Mildred ensures that her daughter’s name won’t disappear into the town’s collective fog of memory. Hiring three disused billboards that run across a small piece of road, Mildred manages to set out her rage in the two-foot-high letters that recount her daughter’s murder, whilst placing the lack of progress firmly on the shoulders of Sheriff Bill Willoughby (Woody Harrelson). Whilst Willoughby takes the accusations in his stride – admitting to feeling impotent in his inability to catch the killer, whilst also battling cancer – Mildred’s stunt causes ripples in the community, including Officer Dixon (Sam Rockwell) and even her own son, Robbie (Lucas Hedges, Ladybird).

Whilst her public accusations are something any bereaved parent would contemplate, it’s clear that the rage percolating inside her threatens to consume Mildred. When the clergy comes to visit, after it’s made clear that her behaviour is making Robbie a victim in his own school, Mildred spits fire and brimstone at the priest until he leaves. There is nothing and no one that will steer her off her path of justice.

Directed by Martin McDonagh (In Bruges), Three Billboards may come as a surprise to those left cold by his last feature, Seven Psychopaths. Mining a similar vein of pitch black humour, there was something uneven about Seven Psychopaths. It felt like a big boy’s club, where women were the punchline. Three Billboards sees the director making amends with a lead character who refuses to be the butt of anyone’s joke. Channelling John Wayne, McDormand is astonishing, managing to be sympathetic whilst being seemingly cruel to those around her. In some ways, she’s a lot like Colin Farrell’s philosophising hitman in In Bruges. A sudden flashback in the film’s opening act, sheds further light on where Mildred is mentally. We often remember the harsh words we say to people, more than the good ones, and McDonagh plays this out in a scene which highlights how Mildred’s rage may actually be aimed at herself just as much as anybody else.

This complexity of character is not just reserved to Mildred, the citizens of Ebbing are also not merely one note affairs. There’s Peter Dinklage’s sweet pool hound, who seems appalled at the suggestion of taking advantage of Mildred in her hour of need, even when he clearly does so. The fact he doesn’t do it whilst stereotypically twirling his moustache and muttering ‘Not all men’ doesn’t make him any less wrong.

Rockwell, who is always great to see on screen, is particularly good as he transforms from a dim-witted, obnoxious and violent mama’s boy, into something much different. It’s a shame we don’t get to see more of Rockwell wrestle with Dixon’s new persona. McDonagh seems quite happy to leave him to his own devices till the film plays out.

Harrelson as the tough but fair sheriff does his best scenes beside McDormand. There’s a real sense of presence between the two characters, who have probably danced to this tune long before Mildred’s daughter was murdered. An interrogation scene between the two manages to elicit anger, laughs and tears from its audience in the space of five minutes; Mildred switching from self-righteous matriarch to soothing mother in a flash.

Whilst the film will likely draw people to it via red band trailers that paint the film as Grumpy Middle-Aged Woman: The Movie, those who come for than just swearing – and there is a lot of swearing – will find a heartfelt portrait of humanity buried in the colourful colloquialisms. Worthy of all the nominations being laid at its feet, Three Billboards is a cracking start to cinema in 2018.

In Blog, Film, Film Reviews Frances McDormand, Martin McDonagh, Sam Rockwell, Three Billboards, Woody Harrelson

Doctor Who: Twice Upon a Time (2017)

December 29, 2017 — Leave a comment

Doctor Who Showrunner, Steven Moffat doesn’t do things by halves. If you’ve read anything about the nightmare that was writing the Doctor Who 50^th Anniversary special, you’ll know the Press Gang writer really likes to fly by the seat of his pants. Soon to be stepping down to make way for new showrunner, Chris Chibnall (Broadchurch), Moffat had originally planned to leave Doctor Who after The Doctor Falls, a regular episode that saw the Doctor ready for regeneration. It was only after hearing that Chibnall didn’t want his first episode to be a Christmas special, that Moffat agreed to oversee one more episode. In doing so, he probably added some undue pressure onto himself.

For not only is Twice Upon a Time his last episode, it’s also the last episode of Peter Capaldi as The Doctor. When Doctors regenerate, the show’s audience demands it be epic. You gotta go out big! Inverting those expectations, Moffat has crafted an episode that manages to be much more personable than other Christmas specials under his watch, and it’s all the better for it.

True to his rebellious nature, the Twelfth Doctor is refusing to regenerate. Holding on with every ounce of strength he has, The Doctor escapes to the South Pole in 1986 where he meets someone extremely familiar. The First Doctor (David Bradley) has just defeated the Cybermen and looks set to regenerate. However, like his future incarnation, he won’t go down without a fight. Realising that if his first incarnation doesn’t regenerate then none of the good things he’s achieved will come to pass, the Twelfth Doctor looks set to go all Wonderful Life and show the First Doctor the true meaning of Christmas. But then there’s the small matter of the World War One Captain, played by Mark Gatiss, who most definitely shouldn’t be roaming the 1980s tundra. Along the way, the trio will meet creatures made of glass, see the return of Bill Potts (Pearl Mackie) and witness the Christmas Armistice of 1914. Honestly, it’s not as grandiose as it sounds.

Considering the weight that hangs over Twice Upon a Time, and everything mentioned above, the plot Is actually rather light. It doesn’t matter how many Doctors you throw on the screen, the whole mystery of Gatiss’ Captain being plucked out of time is merely an excuse for Moffat to allow the Doctors to rub each other up the wrong way. Grumpy, but a bit more in tune with 21^st century ideals, Capaldi’s Doctor clashes somewhat with the equally grumpy, but old fashioned First.

The First Doctor may look the eldest, but he’s still a youngster learning about the universe. No one is inherently born woke and it takes the 12th doctor all his strength to stop from throttling the First over his problematic comments. All of which plays into the thread that runs through Twice Upon a Time; our past may define us, but we are who we are in the moment. We all still have chances to learn and grow. We will make mistakes, and some of them will be terrible, but we will overcome them and keep pushing forward.

This idea of acceptance plays nicely in Capaldi’s eventual regeneration. Having helped the Captain, and encouraged the First Doctor to get on with his lives, the Twelfth Doctor is afforded an opportunity to come to terms with his own end. ‘Doctor,’ he says tiredly, but content. ‘I let you go.’ If we cast our net further, past Moffatt’s tenure, this contrasts nicely with Russell T Davies’ send off for David Tennant, which sadly saw the Oncoming Storm reduced to a whining ‘I don’t want to go.’ It was a line that never sat well with me, and I can’t help thinking that it didn’t with Moffatt either.

Whilst Capaldi’s performance was excellent, time must be taken to give Bradly his dues. Having originally played William Hartnell in Gatiss’ Adventure in Space and Time, the actor was more than ready to cross the line and go full Doctor. It’s not the first time the First Doctor has been recast, but it was certainly the best. The Five Doctors saw Richard Hurndall take over the reins from Hartnell and, to be honest, it never felt more than a pencil sketch of the character. In Bradley’s hands, the First Doctor felt real, like he’d never really been away. The Doctor who once threatened to beat a caveman to death, was just as problematic when faced with ‘modern’ society and he was wonderful. Equally, Mackie appeared to be having just as much fun as Capaldi, clashing with Bradley’s pomposity. I’m not saying I want a series of adventures where the Frist Doctor and Bill travel together, but I am.

Surprisingly streamlined and as emotional as you would want it to be, Twice Upon a Time was – to quote the Thirteenth Doctor (Jodie Whittaker) who made a cheeky appearance – brilliant. Moffat certainly had issues during his time as showrunner, his overly complicated sixth season will never be one of the classics, but it amazing to watch how the show has evolved. It’s going to be fascinating to see where Chibnall goes from here.

In Blog, Doctor Who, TV, TV Reviews bbc, Doctor Who, Jenna Coleman, Peter Capaldi, Steven Moffat, Twelfth Doctor, Twice Upon a Time

Bunny and The Bull (2009)

December 28, 2017 — Leave a comment

We’ve all reached that point in our lives when it feels like we’re going nowhere. The wheels are spinning, but a lifestyle of lethargy and apathy act like an anchor. The reasons can sometimes be a lack of money, insufficient experience to get a job or, in the case of Bunny and the Bull’s Stephen Turnbull (Edward Hogg), an unending fear of the very worst things in life happening. Stephen has crippling agoraphobia and not left his flat in months, which has become an altar to unshakable depression and OCD. When some mice threaten his usually rigorous daily routine, Stephen finds himself beginning to reminisce about the events that led to his present day situation.

The catalyst for everything appears to be a man called Bunny (Simon Farnaby). Aggressive, confrontational, bawdy, a billy bullshitter and Stephen’s closest friend, Bunny convinces him to go on a trip to Europe and it’s this trip that makes up the bulk of the film’s narration.

Paul King (The Mighty Boosh/Come Fly with Me) provides a novel approach to Stephen’s flashbacks, which in hindsight, is reminiscent of the latest adaptation of one of Tolstoy’s classics. Joe Wright’s Anna Karenina was set firmly within the confines of an abandoned theatre. Wright was suggesting the text’s protagonists are never true to themselves or each other. Merely aping emotions and putting on a front. The artificial meets reality. Similarly, Stephen’s adventures with Bunny are constructed out of the contents of his own flat. Takeaway cartons contort into restaurants, forests spring from cardboard and the sky fills with newspaper snow. If the hero refuses to leave his flat, then neither shall the story. It produces the effect of someone trying to pick their way through their memories, creating a hazy recollection that isn’t quite true. In the same way, Levin, Anna Karenina’s only realist, leaves the theatre, Stephen’s memories only start to be realistic when he comes to terms with the root of the problem.

Finding the deeper meaning in all this may seem a bit much, knowing that Bunny and the Bull is supposed to be a comedy. But like all the best comedies, it’s successful because of this dark field in which it pitches its humour. In this instance, a young man’s potential insanity. When the laughs come, they are wonderful. From eating his bodyweight in seafood to more life threatening risks, Farnaby’s Bunny refuses to bow down in the face of any adversity and comes across like a mean-spirited Homer Simpson. On top of that there are unsurprisingly comedic turns from Noel Fielding, Julian Barratt and Richard Ayoade who have all collaborated with King in the past.

Bunny and the Bull is a delightfully quirky, extremely well crafted comedy that has a real heart and speak to anyone who feels, like Stephen, they’ve come to a stop.

In Blog, Film, Film Reviews Bunny and the Bull, Paddington, Paul King, Simon Farnaby

John Noonan