The Lego Batman Movie (2017)

"What is the password?"

"Iron Man sucks!"

It's New Year's Eve, the little one is in bed, and it's my last night of freedom before a month of intense real life stuff that is likely to preclude pretty much any blog stuff happening between now and 30th/31st January because of some pretty intense real life stuff. Be reassured, though; normal blogging frequency will be resumed. Meanwhile, I'll do this last blog post of 2017 as several pints of Boddingtons go down.

This movie is awesome, the kind of knowing but very silly and very meta film that the Batman mythos was just crying out for. I knew it was going to be fun as soon as the Batman monologue over the opening titles started, and I knew it was going to be awesome as soon as the bloke started singing "Nothing bad ever happens to me".

I love the deliberate usage of all of Batman's rogues gallery from all media, including Egghead, Killer Moth, King Tut, Gentleman Ghost, Crazy Quilt and, er, Condiment King. Even better, there's a Chief O'Hara. This film has a huge amount of knowing fun with the whole mythos, including jokes about how Batman has been fighting crime in Gotham City for 78 years.

Things enter an extra level of awesome, though, once the Joker brings back his mates from the Phantom Zone including Godzilla, King Kong, Sauron, Voldemort, the Wicked Witch of the West and various other big bads that Warner Bros has the right to. And, er, certain nameless pepperpots that it blatantly doesn't. And the running romcom joke about the relationship between Batman and the Joker is genuinely funny. The most fun film of 2017 so far, without a doubt.

As You Like It (1936)

"He that sweetest rose will find / Must find love's prick, and Rosalind."

Well then. This saucy, decidedly queer play, new to me, is not what I expected from Shakespeare, and the fact that this is a post-code film from 1936, subtitles for YouTube provided for cultural reasons by the US Government (I bet Trump has put a stop to that) only serves to show how intrinsic to the play this queerness is.

I know Shakespeare, I flatter myself to say, better than most. I have a mere undergraduate degree, from Nottingham uni, but before tonight I knew 22 Shakespeare plays to varying extents, now 23. And until tonight I have given no more than perfunctory acknowledgement to queer theory in relation to the bard. I am, of course, aware of the trope of women dressing as men in such plays as Twelfth Night, but have accepted this as early modern LGBT (let us not forget the T) only in the generic way that one must accord to all cross-dressing. And yet... here Rosalind calls her male disguise "Ganymede", Jove's eponymous catamite. It's hard not to see deliberate, glorious, authorial queerness here. And that's before considering the wonderful sexual ambiguity of pretty much all of Rosalind's lines once she takes on male guise. It's doubly wonderful that this happily queer character should be played here, with a noticeable accent but a great deal of charm, by Elisabeth Bergner, a Viennese Jew who had fled Hitler's Berlin.

Ok, queerness aside this stuck me as a relatively ho-hum Shakespeare comedy with moments of lyrical genius, not quite up there with his best, but that's a relative statement. But there's much to marvel at with this somewhat ancient artifact. My reason for watching this was the presence of Henry Ainley, father of the actor Anthony Ainley, well-known to us Doctor Who fans and subject of a splendid biography. Ainley, though, turned out to be the exemplar of something truly fascinating; the theatrical delivery of Shakespeare of a certain era, still "traditional" although pretty much beyond living memory, against which the more "naturalistic" delivery of actors such as Lauence Olivier.

Also notable are the presence of John Laurie (Private Fraser in Dad's Army) as a young heartthrob and a young Peter Bull- the Soviet ambassador in many James Bond films- as a young yokel. This film is fascinating, in the public domain, and on YouTube with proper subtitles.

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971)

"If the good Lord had intended us to walk, he wouldn't have invented roller skates...”


It’s an alarming thought that this film was made when Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was a recent children’s novel. But 1971 was a long time ago, and inevitable comparisons with Tim Burton’s 2005 adaptation (not a remake; merely a different imagining of the same source material, so I haven’t broken my rule by blogging that film first) must reflect that.

This film may not have Burton’s remarkable visual style, striking though it is on its own terms. It cannot quite live up to the vivid and wonderfully surreal chocolatescapes of the novel; instead it has Gene Wilder, not an actor I have always admired, in the role he was born to play. He is extraordinary. His Willy Wonka is wry, highly intelligent, fatalistic about being surrounded by unkind, uncultured, venal fools. This is one of the most charismatic, and quotable, characters in the history of cinema.

There is much else to enjoy, though, such as Tim Brooke-Taylor’s comic cameo and, for us Doctor Who fans, recognising Bill from Day of the Daleks. The Oompa-Lookpa songs, while much truncated, are still entertaining, and most of the songs are not annoying. Most of them. There are lots of nice little comedy scenes surrounding the search for the golden ticket to raise a titter from the adults watching. The film is a triumph, hugely entertaining and, in spite of yielding to reality at times, surprisingly faithful to the book. If only there’d been a sequel with Vernicious Knids...

X-Men 2 (2003)

"Bobby, have you tried not being a mutant?"

It's rare for a sequel to outshine its predecessor; X-Men 2, helmed again by Bryan Singer (whose reputation has suffered post-Weinstein, as have many, and such behavior in this and all other industries cannot be tolerated, but let us not derail ourselves) may well have achieved it with this adaptation of God Loves, Man Kills.

As per the comics, the film gives us a well-rounded and well-written set of characters, all well-acted and many of whom, handily, have already been introduced. Good writing means that the sheer number of characters does not feel excessive, although I wonder if someone less familiar with the source material would say the same.

While Wolverine is still prominent- and hints are dropped about his origins- there is a much more equal treatment of the characters this time around. Nightcrawler is introduced, and in many ways true to form, but it's a pity that the character's sense of humour is so downplayed. Rogue is more peripheral this time, but the love triangle of Scott, Jean and Logan is very much still there.

Magneto is magnificent and, while allied with the goodies for much of the film, gets his chance to be evil for a bit near the end. Xavier is shown as reasonable and charming, and once again we forgot just how bloody terrifying his mind control powers are. Bobby Drake is well-developed, wit the pathos of his brother betraying him just after he outs himself to his parents. Pyro, of course, joins Magneto's lot. And, of course, Jean dies at the end just as she did in the comics a few issues before returning as Phoenix.

Among all the action and set pieces- I love the epic fight between Wolverine and Lady Deathstrike- there are also plenty of character moments, and the film is gripping throughout. This instalment will be hard to top.

The Spy Who Came in from the Cold (1965)

"She offered me free love. At the time it was all I could afford.”

Wow. That was bleak. More so, in fact, than the BBC’s superb version of Le Carre’s Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy which I am certain to blog at some point. And that Richard Burton is awfully good at this acting lark.

I was twelve when the Wall came down; I remember the Cold War. But the world of half a century ago seems a strange place in many ways. The leading man can sneeringly refer to a “queer”, labour exchanges advertise “jobs for men” and even a bibulous fellow like myself raises an eyebrow at the sheer amount of alcohol consumed. And Nan refers to her Hungarian goulash with Portuguese wine as a “Communist dish with a totalitarian wine”; no one seems to regard the tyrannies of the Eastern Bloc and Salazar’s fascist state as equally vile. It’s all a game and, as Control says, while one side supports freedom and the other does not, the methods used by both sides are equally abhorrent. No wonder it’s so easy to become burnt out and turn to drink.

(“Control”- I now get certain sketches from A Bit of Fry and Laurie more than I did...)

This is a thriller, of sorts, but one uniquely suffused with a profound sense of moral disillusionment and ennui. Leamas is younger than I am now but certainly doesn’t feel it. The final twist is clever but morally bankrupt and the unhappy ending, when it comes, is not unexpected. An excellently downbeat counterweight to the sort of spy film we usually see and a real acting triumph from Richard Burton.

Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2 (2017)

“I have sensitive nipples!”

Yes, the Guardians of the Galaxy are back. Wisely, James Gunn is also back to write and direct, and the soundtrack plays just as part a role. What we have is more of the same, which is no bad thing. This sequel may not be quite as good as the first film but it has the same humour, the same relatable characters in a very cosmic setting, and the same sense of style.

It even has a heart, with the message that men like Yondu who bother to raise children are proper fathers, whereas giant planets like Ego who bugger off to destroy all life in the universe are not. We also have a touching and hilarious romance of sorts between Drax (who gets the best lines, again: “I have famously huge turds”) and the innocent Mantis. The reconciliation between sisters Gamora and Nebula is heartwarming, and we are told the horrible truth that Thanos (Not in the film but ever- present) used to make his daughters fight and Gamora always won, and each time he would replace a part of Nebula’s body with machinery for losing- truly horrific. Baby Groot is cute. And Rocket Raccoon is everybody’s favourite arsehole.

Ego, of course, can’t always be shown as a giant planet on the screen, so Kurt Russell plays his human avatar, although we certainly get to see Ego as we know him, a living planet with a face. Mantis is as we know her from Steve Englehart. And the Stan Lee cameo is intriguing as we briefly catch him reminiscing to Uatu, suggesting that all his cameos may have seen him working undercover for the Watchers. Ego is a Celestial, apparently; they obviously look quite different in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Howard the Duck gets another cameo, played by Seth Green. And the ending seems to hint at the creation of Adam Warlock, no less.

We get a dramatic and very sad ending bringing everything to a splendid confusion, and some properly cosmic post-credit scenes. I’m glad it won’t be another three years until we see these characters again.

Doctor Who: Twice Upon a Time

“You’re the first Dalek that ever got naked for me!”

It’s a brave move to start the Christmas special, where a greater number of viewers than usual are watching, many of them digesting large late lunches and just a little bit on the merry side, with “Previously on Doctor Who...” and a load of monochrome clips from 1966. But Moffat, in perhaps the last script he will ever contribute to the programme, dares to do it. Right after bringing back the Cybermen from The Tenth Planet he shows us bits of the story. Then William Hartnell morphs into an outstanding David Bradkey and, for the next hour, everything is brilliant.

There’s a lot more going on than a multi-Doctor story, of course, but it’s a joy to see one from the man who penned Time Crash. The repartee between the two Doctors is magnificent, and the running joke of the new Doctor’s admonishment of the old Doctor’s casual sexism is both nice social commentary and a nifty bit of foreshadowing. Yes, I raised an eyebrow at how the old Doctor- refusing, like the new Doctor, to renew himself- had a flicker of modern day orange regeneration energy, but some things are inevitable. But there are things to squee about- the old TARDIS, inside and out, “the Ship”. And, after all these years of Doctors with a number as a prefix, it’s great to see the Doctor again.

It’s an indulgence, perhaps, for Moffat’s old mate Mark Gatiss to be cast in his swansong, but appropriate; he excels as a man snatched from the point of death and knowing he must return. And it’s inevitable, appropriate and cleverly done that Bill should return. And the seeming enemy is linked to the Weapon Forgers of Villengard- a lovely little reference to The Doctor Dances and Moffat’s first ever story for Doctor Who. Then again, I’m tempted to see the plot resolution- there’s no real baddie, just a rather nice scheme to duplicate the Matrix on Gallifrey and ensure the memory of everyone who has ever lived is uploaded just before the point of death- as being a call back to the sort of plot Moffat used to write in the early days.

It’s nice to see the Doctors discuss their mutual fears of their impending regenerations, and it’s great to see the truly wonderful chat between Bill and the old Doctor; never mind what he was running from when he stole the TARDIS; where was he running to? The answer is that he wanted to find out why it was that good prevails, and he doesn’t understand that the reason is him, the wandering God, the perfect encapsulation of the outgoing showrunner’s philosophy.

We also get the return of an old friend from Into the Dalek, references to RTD’s old stomping ground of New Earth as a nice little tribute to Moffat’s predecessor, and of course a great big tribute to the Hartnell years to make clear that Moffat is in no doubt as to what he is; a custodian, standing on the shoulders of others, making his own huge contribution, and handing the show on to others. He’s undoubtedly a name to be spoken of on a par with Robert Holmes. If we never see him on the programme again, we shall miss him. And let us not forget the sheer personal sacrifice of dedicating seven very busy years to Doctor Who. Steven Moffat, we salute you.

There’s a nice further twist, of course- the Captain is one Archibald Hamish Lethbridge-Stewart. But then it’s on to the regeneration- with touching goodbyes from the uploaded memories of Bill, er, Nardole, and Clara, who manages to restore the Doctor’s memories. It’s a nice little update of the farewells from a Doctor’s companions prior to regeneration that was so fashionable in the ‘80s.

But the Doctor must die alone. And, ancient though he is, and weary of mourning so many friends and loved ones, he convinces himself that the universe sort of needs him and, after a brief farewell speech that owes a fair bit to Terrance Dicks he finally regenerates. The regeneration itself is awesome, but so is Peter Capaldi. Magnificent, and one of the great Doctors. And then... Jodie Whittaker gets to utter just two words and her first thirty-odd seconds are very, very Matt Smith.

Magnificent. Truly magnificent. Although I have no idea what the slightly sozzled not-we made of that...

The Walking Dead- Season 2, Episode 11: Judge Jury, Executioner

"They're gonna kill me, right?

Spoilers. You have been warned.

This is one of the best types of episodes of The Walking Dead: all about a big ethical dilemma now that civilisation has ended. Randall is a threat, as Daryl discovers by, er, torturing him. He has thirty well-armed rapist mates. So should the group kill him for the sake of their own safety?

Dale's view is a principled "no". Everyone else's view consists of multiple variations and degrees of "yes" because the group must be protected from the threat. My own view is, perhaps, more nuanced; in any civilised society, Dale would be right. But civilisation has literally ended; humanity is literally now living in small, palaeolithic-type bands, struggling to survive and struggling, beyond that, to pass on any inkling of modern tech, knowledge and philosophy. The aim is therefore not to behave according to a state of civilisation that no longer exists but to survive, and do what you can to contribute to the hopeful rebuilding of a civilisation where such acts are not done. For now, though, the group probably need to kill him, as quickly and humanely as possible. And feel awful about it, because to feel ok about it would be inhuman.

This is also a huge character episode, of course. Dale dies, courtesy of a lone and foreshadowed zombie, thinking the worst of everyone. There's a touching scene where Herschel shows Glen that he accepts him as his daughter's partner. Daryl hints gruffly to Dale that he doesn't much approve of Shane's psycho tendencies. The female characters are all a bit disappointingly passive in this testosterone-fuelled episode. Carl's behaviour is getting to be a bit of a worry. And the subtle joshing between Rick and Shane for the position of alpha male is getting close to a climax. Shane admits to Andrea that he wants to be boss, and Rick has lost face by not going through with shooting Randall.

A definite uptick in quality, then, although next episode could do with a bit more oestrogen.

Jessica Jones: AKA Smile

"You really are an anal crumpet, aren't you?"

So this is it, it’s over, and somehow it all fits into fifty short minutes.

It’s interesting to have the finale be the episode in which Rosario Dawson guest stars as Claire, providing the rather necessary plot function of nursing Luke to health while Jessica has her final confr with Kilgrave. But she also acts as a link to Daredevil and a nice person for Malcolm to chat to about being a “sidekick”- he ends the episode as Jessica’s self-appointed employee, a former social work student finally finding a way to help people.

After a tense set piece with Kilgrave getting everyone in the hospital to want Jessica dead, and an injection into Luke’s optic nerve that we thankfully don’t see, it’s time for the final showdown, and the unhinged Kilgrave has managed to increase his powers even more, even at a 60% risk of death. David Tennant is outstanding for this finale, but Krysten Ritter is extraordinary. Her monologue to the unconscious Luke is quietly devastating. She can’t be with him because, essentially, her self-Loathing means she sees herself as not deserving happiness.

The final showdown- a horribly injured Albert has time to warn Jessica before dying- sees a much more powerful Kilgrave. But a clever bait and switch between Jessica and Trish, and Trish allowing herself to be bait, allows Jessica to trick Kilgrave that he can indeed control her. And it’s when he’s at his very creepiest and his very rapiest that Jessica is able to quickly snap his neck. Visually it feels sudden and even anti-climatic, but thematically it’s satisfying. Kilgrave dies at his most unrepentant.

Hogarth gets a nice little coda to begin her atonement by saving Jessica from being tried for Kilgrave’s murder, but Jessica ends the series still consumed with self-loathing. A magnificent end to a magnificent series, and a character I want to see again.

Jessica Jones: AKA Take a Bloody Number

"Please! The chemistry was jumping off the two of you."

Nearly there. The penultimate episode and, while the plot is all about tracking down and killing Kilgrave, this seems to be an episode all about Jessica reconnecting with Luke, at last able to understand and forgive her after himself being controlled by Kilgrave to destroy his likelihood. Perhaps, as Trish urges, Jessica can finally find some happiness with him? No. Of course not. Because this is television drama, and a late twist tells us that this isn't what the episode is about at all.

Kilgrave, meanwhile, is getting his terrified dad to find ways of increasing his powers, in the process giving Jessica (and Luke) the chance to do all that PI stuff and track him down. Trish, with help from her mother and her agenda, may have found clues as to how Jessica got her powers in the first place, but it seems for the moment that it can wait; one big bad at the time. Simpson may or may not be dead.

After a rather distressing scene involving secateurs Malcolm, in a role reversal from early in the season, despairs of Jessica's addictive behaviours and instead rather patiently sets out to help an increasingly disturbed Robyn who, alone, seems unable to function in society. But, after a terrifying scene involving Albert and a blender, Kilgrave's trap snaps shut; Luke has been under his control all along, very unwilling though he is, and Jessica has to shoot him (with his quickly uttered permission) to save herself. It's a devastating ending to a powerful hour of television, and the finale is sure to be more dramatic still...

Back to the Future (1985)

"You space bastard! You killed my pine!"

Two points before I start, ok? One: 1985 is further ago for us than 1955 was when this film was made. Two: look, this is Back to the Future. I realise that reviews are supposed to express an opinion as to the quality of the film or whatever, yes, but can we just cut the crap, acknowledge that this is a bloody great film, and talk about things that are more interesting?

I've seen this film many, many times but, barring the odd snippet, not for twenty years or so. That makes this reviewing an odd experience, with odd memories unexpectedly returning, and I'm finally getting the pop culture references such as Doc's "Devo suit" and Chuck Berry hearing Marty playing "Johnny B. Goode" over the phone, proving that I . The intricacies of the timey-wimey plot are truly to be admired, although, if I were to be churlish, I'd have to question the treatment of the butterfly effect. Marty has inadvertently changed the circumstances of his parents' meeting, and made his dad much more confident. Surely, then, history has changed in all sorts of chaotic and unpredictable ways so that the same sperm would not have fertilised the same egg at the same time  and Marty would not have been born? Still, I'm no churl.

There are so many clever little things to admire- Marty's straitlaced mum being a rather normal teenager, jailbird Joey in the playpen, the little riffs on '50s sci-fi magazines. And then we have the Libyan terrorists in their, er, camper van. And Doc, just prior to being shot, intending to visit the distant future of, er, 2010. And how the film blatantly compares 1955 favourably to the Reaganite 1985, but not in a reactionary way; the first thing we see when Marty returns to 1985 is a homeless man.

The script is brilliant. Michael J. Fox is brilliant. Christopher Lloyd is brilliant. And James Tolkan (Mr. Strickland) is a cinematic legend. This is an awesome film.

Jessica Jones: AKA I’ve Got the Blues

”What about nuns?”

“They still make those?”

It’s the morning after the night before, a symbolic hangover following the dramatic events of the last episode. It’s also a time to breathe before the final two episodes so it’s a more relaxed pace and a secondary villain in the shape of a drugged up Simpson. Jessica even gets hit by a truck due to tiredness, but it’s clear how single minded she is about killing Kilgrave, whatever the cost.

We get some nice flashbacks of Jessica and Trish in their youth, and we are shown Just how a musics “Patsy’s” mother was, forcing her into a showbiz career to the extent of compulsory bulimia. It’s Jessica saving her from this abuse, and Trish’s early accidental knowledge of Jessica’s powers, that forges their deep friendship. It also adds extra meaning to Trish’s druggy heroics later on as she gets to be the hero for once. A Hellcat indeed.

The confrontation between a physically weakened but mentally sharp Jessica is compelling as she reveals she’s worked out that it was him who killed Clemens. The ensuing fight and its consequences define thecepisode, with Trish being lucky to survive.

But we end with a splendid cliffhanger as texts that can only be from Kilgrave lead Jessica to Luke Cage’s bar just before it explodes. Lucky his power is to be invulnerable. What will happen now? How will Luke react to her? Here we go...

Jessica Jones: AKA 1,000 Cuts

"I'm a man of my word. If I feel like it."

Now that changes everything.

The whole series up to now has been based around the central plotline of Jessica having to provide evidence against Kilgrave so that Hope, an innocent young woman, doesn't spend her life locked away for something she didn't do. There are, of course, as a drugged up Simpson points out, a few problems with this, not the least of which is how can Kilgrave ever plausibly be imprisoned? If he can get Hope freed on a whim then the answer is surely "never". But the dramatic final scene removes this imperative. Jessica, both freed of her obligations to Hope and freed of Kilgrave's control, can now set out to kill him.

So much happens, though. A crazed Simpson suddenly murders Detective Clemons. Robin tries to kill Hogarth and is accidentally herself killed by Pam, who ends up disgusted with her (former?) fiancee. We learn that Killgrave has no power over Jessica any more, and that his power is a virus that can potentially be cured. Most horrifyingly, like any abuser, Kilgrave still has no conception of having done wrong, and continues to believe that it is Jessica who has wronged him.

Mostly, though, it's an episode about character, in spite of the sidelining of Simpson's no longer nuanced character, with some first class acting from both Ritter and Tennant as the series disposes of a fair bit of ballast so it can move towards its end. Bloody good telly, yet again.

Ant-Man (2015)

"How's retirement?"

"How's your face?"

This is probably one of the less good Marvel films I've seen; there was a certain lack of polish and there's an unevenness that makes it very noticeable that Edgar Wright was replaced as director. And yet it shows the Marvel benchmark that we nevertheless have a thoroughly enjoyable film that isn't going to garner many negative comments. It helps that Paul Rudd is so excellent.

You can sort of tell, in spite of the different genre (a heist movie within the Marvel Cinematic Universe) and very different setting that the script is from the same source as a certain three films starring Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, in spite of the lowered humour quotient. But this is very much a Marvel film, complete with Stan Lee cameo and gratuitous reference to Tales to Astonish. It's interesting that Henry Pym was a superhero, as Ant-Man, back in the '80s here, but that Janet Van Dyne, a character I remember so well from Secret Wars, is dead. my Marvel comics knowledge is pretty thorough up to about 1993 and pretty hazy after that; is she dead in the comics?

It's nice to have someone released from prison (admittedly for a pretty Robin Hood crime that doesn't lose our sympathy) as a hero. This film believes in rehabilitation, which is a big reason to like it. The character stuff s good too- Scott being cruelly kept from his daughter (my own little girl is not much younger) and the dynamic between Hank and Hope. The most emotive scenes are all about fathers and daughters. It's a fun film to watch, and even has a giant Thomas the Tank Engine. It's well worth seeing, and don't be put off by the fact that there are better Marvel films. It would be a shame to skip this.

Behemoth the Sea Monster (1959)

"Behemoth!"

In thought I'd announce the end of that mini-hiatus and the return of normal blogging with a true cinematic classic but, er, something went a bit wrong. Sorry.

Still, this film may be a typically melodramatic Fifties monster movies and oh-so-very-atomic age, played dead straight with dramatic musical stings in the right places, but there's some real quality here. Gene Evans may be a token piece of plywood to draw in American cinemagoers, yes, but Andre Morell, fresh from Quatermass and the Pit, gives a performance that is far more nuanced and charismatic than it needs to be, and the film is well-directed in a way that belies its tiny budget. Best of all, the elderly Willis O'Brien, he of King Kong and The Lost World fame, handles the monster effect and does so with real aplomb.

Mind you, Jack MacGowran's comedy paleontologist is the best thing in it, a welcome piece of comic relief. But, for all its straightforward genre plot, the film allows the tension to build until we have a massive and radioactive dinosaur-cum-plesiosaur in the Thames next to Tower Bridge, and what's not to love about that? I care not that the beast rampaging through London reminds me uncannily of a 1980s Chewits advert; this is a genuinely well-made film and worth seeing if you happen to be fond of this splendid genre.