Archive for Burn Gorman

It Came from Outer Space Beneath the Sea

Posted in FILM, literature with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 18, 2013 by dcairns

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We enter the multiplex auditorium and immediately feel the crunch of popcorn under foot — a heap of the stuff, spilled on the carpet. “My God, a child has exploded,” says the guy behind us.

As a pedant, the bit of Guillermo Del Toro’s PACIFIC RIM which I did not enjoy, was hearing Idris Elba say that he would die if he “stepped foot” inside one of those giant walk-robots again. This particular language-mangling is one which seems to have gained ground since I first heard it in a hair product ad ten years or so ago (how does one “step foot”? Did Johnny Eck “step hand”? I think the phrase for which Del Toro and his drift partner / co-writer Travis Beacham are grasping is “set foot,” a phrase which has the advantage that, when you think about it, it actually makes sense) and I’m not sure how it can be exterminated. Perhaps the linguistic equivalent of a plasmacaster could do it. Or an Idris Elba elbow rocket.

If the film’s grammar is faulty, its look is very nice indeed, with a lot of intense coloured light, neon etc, filtered and softened through water haze — a bit like wearing the old anaglyph 3D red-blue glasses to go swimming (what? I’m the only one to have done this?). Despite having written about giant monster movies quite a bit, I’ve never been entirely convinced that there was a way to make a really good one, the first KING KONG still being, in my opinion, the only conspicuous triumph in eighty years of kaiju kinema. PACIFIC RIM’s main achievement is to suggest that such a film, further down the line, might be possible. I don;t think this is it, but it comes closer than the likes of Michael Bay could ever dream.

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Del Toro is striving to be mainstream here, which is a potentially depressing thing to see any filmmaker do, especially one who shouldn’t need to struggle to be immensely popular. I’m convinced that his HOBBIT or his AT THE MOUNTAINS OF MADNESS would have been more interesting and probably more box office than this. As it is, his disinterest in his leading character (who has no grotesque quirks or illnesses and isn’t a child) is palpable, with Charlie Hunnam fairing worse than similar Brit-with-a-US-accent Rupert Evans in HELLBOY (a character brutally excised from the sequel with a dismissive two-line dialogue exchange). Rinko Kikuchi (memorable as Bang Bang in THE BROTHERS BLOOM) is rather delightful as his opposite number, but her child version in flashback, tiny Mana Ashida, creates the film’s only real emotion.

Ron Perlman and Charlie Day are fun. Burn Gorman, who gets a lot of work by looking like a Skull Island rat monkey, or like Lee Evans with third-degree burns, overacts rather badly. The human dimension is very cartoony, and while I don’t necessarily say that characters with names like Stacker Pentecost and Hercules Hansen are foredoomed to be one-dimensional comic strip figures (I picture a one-dimensional comic-strip figure as resembling a single dot from a Roy Lichtenstein blow-up), the figures declaiming lines like “The apocalypse is cancelled!” do not consistently transcend the emotional sophistication of the Mattel toy.

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BUT — I don’t think any of that would necessarily spoil the pleasure of anybody who already thinks that giant robots fighting giant lizards is a good idea for a movie. I do think it was a mistake to set the final battle underwater, thus losing the sense of scale of the earlier urban punch-up, which is more spectacular, more inventive, and not hampered by the drag effect of water. Underwater battles are ALWAYS dullsville, surely? Remember THUNDERBALL? It took a lot of effort to make something that dull. Del Toro’s deep-sea donnybrook is more exciting than that, but it’s weaker than what has gone before.

I remember learning, to my surprise, from a female anime fan in Leytonstone, that female anime fans really like big robot stories — the idea of piloting a big robot appeals to some untapped female primal urge — and I worry that by making his robots team-driven, the most interesting idea at play in PACIFIC RIM, Del Toro and Beacham may have negated the wish-fulfillment fantasy of having a giant steel carapace.

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Maybe it’s time I watched PATLABOR again.

A shame the movie doesn’t use the term “waldos” — Robert Heinlein invented the term in a science fiction story and it became an accepted name for “remote manipulators” (machines which mimic the movement of a real human limb at a distance) when they were eventually invented. But the film does use the expression “Double Event,” borrowed from Jack the Ripper studies — Del Toro is a keen Ripperologist and no doubt liked the strange, mythic import of the words.

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Wayne, Bane & Michael Caine

Posted in Comics, FILM, Politics with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 11, 2012 by dcairns

Fiona wasn’t sure she wanted to see THE DARK KNIGHT RISES. I said I’d go myself, but she forbade me. So we eventually saw it together (and in IMAX) and in fact she liked it best of all three films — mainly for Anne Hathaway’s Catwoman/Selena Kyle, the only reliable source of humour and sexiness. She was  fan of Michelle Pfeiffer’s work in the role, but Hathaway, though less feline, is more woman-shaped, a fact Nolan even accentuates by having her ride a motorcycle in the doggy position.

This one does seem to me to succeed better than the previous two films, and in fact it could be argued that Nolan’s series defies most if not all historical precedent by improving from film to film.

There’s nothing maybe as extraordinary as Heath Ledger’s remarkable Joker — but to my own surprise I enjoyed Tom Hardy’s Bane, with his ridiculous voice (sounding at times, more in phrasing than accent, like James Mason talking into a polystyrene cup). For a man who’s been through so much (spending his life in the world’s worst prison, having his face smashed off), Bane seems to be constantly very, very happy — I’m judging more by his vocal delivery than by his facial expressions, admittedly. He’s quite inspirational in that way. Of course, he does murder almost everybody he meets. I’m reminded of James Coburn’s diagnosis of CIA assassin Godfrey Cambridge in THE PRESIDENT’S ANALYST — “That’s why you’re so well-balanced: you can get out you’re hostility by actually killing people!”

The film is dotted with favourite actors — Nolan even finds a good use for Matthew Modine, an appealing thesp who seemed to go out of style once his eternal boyishness ceased to match his biological age — and striking faces (stand up, Burn Gorman).

Fiona always maintained that Christian Bale’s Batman voice is that of the dog who can say “sausages” (and “Anthony” and “a jar”) —

It’s nice here to see Bayle given what seems like more talking scenes as Bruce Wayne, who talks like a person and doesn’t require a cheerful northerner to manipulate his jaw muscles.

I did feel a bit sad for Michael Caine, who does too much blubbering in close-up — the kind of big emotion that would play less unpleasantly from a distance. I’ve never had any desire to see Caine blubber (Billy Wilder suggested that strong emotion is best filmed from behind). Incidentally, Alfred the butler in the comics is usually written as a sardonic geezer who masks his devotion to Bruce Wayne with his cutting wit — make him sentimental and the character really loses all depth.

The film is generally better at emotion on the grand, operatic and epic scale rather than the human — which is true of most blockbusters these days, but particularly Nolan’s. Still, it matters than Nolan can deliver the excess required to do this kind of thing well, as attested by the opening aeroplane stunt (featuring a welcome Aidan Gillen) which is gloriously absurd yet put over with po-faced conviction.

Nolan’s shooting and cutting of action has been a talking point throughout this series. There was a cunning plan behind the incoherent cutting of the fights in the first movie — make the audience as confused as Batman’s enemies. The trouble with that idea is that an action movie audience would rather see a stunning action sequence than be plunged into the confusion felt by the third goon from the left just before the caped crusader punches his lights out. The second film was altogether less messy, although by delayed effect it picked up most of the bad reviews for confusing staging (I think only the truck chase really lost me), though I’d agree there was room for improvement.

This time round, we get a chance to see the fights in wide-ish, waist-high shots that actually last more than one punch. Unfortunately, Bale or his stuntman in that heavy outfit can’t really move as fast as we always imagined Batman should be able, so the fights (some set in broad daylight) feel clunky at times. And Batman has a disconcerting way of going in without a plan and getting his ass kicked. The Batman written by Grant Morrison in the comics would never do that, and certainly not twice in a row with the same opponent. It not only makes the character seem dim-witted, and it’s dramatically unsatisfying to see him fail to learn.

But I’m being a touch over-critical — I enjoyed the movie’s sweep, and felt the plot delivered some good surprises that shouldn’t have been possible with such  well-known mythos. Some of this is done by changing character names, and some of it might not have worked if I were more quick-witted, but it felt satisfying to me to find a couple of familiar comic book figures, hiding in plain sight.

“Why so serious?”