SPECTRE (2015)

"Information is all, is it not?"" 

Ok, perhaps this isn't quite as good as its predecessor, but that's a very high bar, and this is nevertheless a fine Bond film. And a highly satisfying payoff to all the long-running plot threads that have been playing out since Casino Royale. Needless to say... spoilers!

It's a huge thrill to see Bond, gone just rogue enough, chasing all the pre-existing clues to an organisation that was always going to be SPECTRE, and an end of level boss, played superbly as always by Christoph Waltz, who was always going to be Ernst Stavro Blofeld. The backstory is nice, though, with "Blofeld" being Bond;s childhood stepbrother who regards him as a "cuckoo". The fact that his mother's maiden name happens to be Blofeld does, admittedly, feel a little forced... but, dammit, rule of cool.

The set pieces are awesome, right from the start with the Day of the Dead in Mexico City, right through Bond's infiltration of the mysterious organisation's headquarters in Rome through to the final showdown with "Blofeld". Andrew Scott's secondary, bureaucratic baddie ("C"... yes, I get the allusion!) is fun. And there is, of course, a very real subtext to it all with us all merrily handing over our personal data to those evil, MAGA-loving tech bros. In the real world, sadly, there's no 007 to save us from our fate.

The ending is, with the very obvious difference that Madeleine gets to live, somewhat redolent of On Her Majesty's Secret Service, with Bond falling in love and choosing love over the job. But, of course, there's one more film of this era to go. If it's anywhere near as good as this, I can't wait.

Skyfall (2012)

 "You were expecting an exploding pen?"

And so here we reach unexplored territory for me- until yesterday, I hadn't seen any James Bond films since Quantum of Solace because... well, you know. But this, the very next film, is an absolutely superb return to form, and I'm not only talking about the brilliant theme song.

One of the things you tend to notice at the start of a film, before you get "used" to it, is the artiness of the direction, the composition of the shots, the camera angles, that sort of thing. And yes, Sam Mendes shoots this film very creatively. And yet at no point does he forget that he's shooting an action film. The set pieces, the action sequences, they're particularly magnificent in this film and that's down to Mendes.

The script is superb too, though. This is a Bond who's getting older, past his peak, but determined to keep going. We have a new Q, more of a computer whiz than a purveyor of gadgets- nice idea, but let's see how long that lasts. This is M's swansong, of course, with Judi Dench doing a bloody good death scene and Ralph Fiennes taking over as the new M to whose name, shockingly, we are actually made privy.

Oh yes, and there's Eve. I like the reveal about her at the end... and it's a new spin on the character to have her be a former field agent. Even the villain has motives that are closer to home. Indeed, while this is in some ways a typical Bond film on the surface, with big action sequences in Istanbul and Shanghai, it's fundamentally more about character, with the climax being a siege in Bond's rather posh childhood home. And yet, still, it never forgets that it's an action film.

This is the best Bond film in a very long time.

Mary Poppins Returns (2018)

“This family is clearly in desperate need of a nanny."

I'm almost glad the winds and the rain were so angry and threatening today: Mrs Llamastrangler, Little Miss Llamastrangler and I don't often all watch films together but we watched this today. And it was wonderful.

The casting is spot-on, and not only the nice little cameo for nonagenarian Dick Van Dyke at the end, complete with tap dancing. Emily Blunt is absolutely superb as Mary Poppins. She approaches the part in exactly the right way- echoing Julie Andrews without being a slavish copy, giving what is very much her own performance which is nothing short of a triumph- charismatic, assured, compulsively watchable. Lin-Manuel Miranda is only passable as Bert's replacement Jack, with a mostly ok Cockney accent in flagrant disregard of tradition. And one of the children is, of course, the precociously talented Pixie Davies from Humans.

It's the '30s now, and Michael and Jane have grown up. But Michael is now widowed with three kings, which makes him tense and vulnerable as well as providing a good excuse for Jane to be living with them. But there's trouble afoot as plot necessity demands that the family home be threatened with repossession unless a miracle is to somehow happen. This plot looks awfully similar to that of Nanny McPhee but, of course, it would be the mother of all pot/kettle situations to accuse a Mary Poppins film of ripping off that particular, er, homage. It's especially amusing to see Colin Firth as the baddie here.

The film is splendidly entertaining throughout, with the fantasy sequences being splendidly child-friendly and visually exciting. The songs, if nowhere near as memorable as those of the original, are good. For such a belated sequel this is really very good indeed.

A Very English Scandal: Episode 3

“I was rude, I was vile, I was queer, I was myself!"

After a peerless couple of episodes, themselves a bloody good example of quality telly, this final episode simply knocks both of them into a cocked hat. Extraordinary.

We see the evidence pieced together, inexorably, until the shocking moment of Thorpe's arrest arrives. The storytelling beats are perfect, the mix of humour and pathos just as in real life, the structure of the whole thing an absolute triumph of both writing and direction, the dialogue simply magnificent, the ending deeply satisfying.

There is of course a harsh light, leavened necessarily by humour, into the shocking levels of homophobia, police brutality, hypocrisy and rank snobbery- the way Thorpe blanks his old friend David, who happens to be northern and common, in the courtroom. But there is also a nod to the other side of the '70s- the clothes, the disco, the famous Peter Cook ribbing of the summing up with the line about "player of the pink oboe". There is injustice; there is inequality; these things are not ok and must be fought, but still there is life, and there is laughter, and there is joy. It's all wonderfully RTD and, after the sadly under-viewed Cucumber, reminds us that RTD is one of the best writers we have. That domestic, semi-confession scene with semi-confession, cod in parsley sauce, love, forgiveness and very understated English emotion, is alone worthy of a BAFTA.

Hugh Grant, of course, also triumphs here, finding even more nuance within this complicated, genuinely progressive man who, in the end, reflexively abuses his privilege to do terrible things, yet is also a victim of the prejudices of his generation. Adrian Scarborough excels too, though, enjoying himself hugely stealing the show as the larger-than-life George Carman. Yet Ben Whishaw perhaps lingers in the mind as Norman finally gets his day in court and finally becomes the gay icon he was destined to be.

A truly historic piece of telly, then, and it bloody well better get that shedload of BAFTAs. Perhaps, also, this is posterity's verdict on Thorpe, a complex man but not a good one. But, er, let's not be dissuaded from voting Lib Dem anyway. I'm fairly sure that Vince has never had any bloody huge Great Danes shot to cover up a murky past, and I wouldn't put it past either May or Corbyn...

A Very English Scandal: Episode 2

"She's the love of my life."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

Another utterly compelling hour of telly, then, as things move towards their inexorable conclusion. Russell T. Davies, Stephen Frears and an utterly revelatory Hugh Grant are all spellbinding in this artfully crafted bit of telly, and we get to see along the way just how much human devastation is left behind by self-centred posh boy Jeremy Thorpe. And this from a series that has yet to even mention his probable cover-up of the vile Cyril Smith. And yet, as the opening scene reminds me, Thorpe was very much the sort of man of whose politics I tend to approve. I would have voted Liberal back then. Yet progressive politics do not necessarily stop one from being a complete and utter bastard.

Thorpe's desire to see Norman Scott is thrust in our face from the beginning, but we are allowed, at first, to wonder whether it all might perhaps be a joke; Grant plays this ambiguity well. Yet Ben Whishaw is equally excellent in what is, perhaps even more so than the first episode, a double character study heavily reliant on the abundant skills of both actors. Whishaw truly captures both Scott’s odd innocence and his quietly dignified insistence in a homophobic world (the wedding speech is deliberately both funny and undercutting that with horror at the sheer bigotry, very RTD) that his relationship with Thorpe was real and deserving of recognition, whatever the tragedies that befall him, from his abandonment by his wife (and the taking away of his child, the worst thing that can happen to anyone) to the tragic suicide of poor Gwen- why isn’t the fantastic Eve Myles on telly more often?

Much of the episode sees the possibility of scandal slowly simmering, with an attempt to raise the temperature by Emlyn Hooson here (Jason Watkins is bloody good) and a quiet word to the police by Reginald Maudling there. But there is real pathos as Thorpe genuinely mourns the sudden death of his first wife, and shares real affection with his second. Thorpe may be gay, and closeted, but the women in his life are more than just beards. People are complicated.

The whole business of the 1974 election is handled with admirable economy of storytelling, and then the final stretch running up to the attempted assassination is rightly played as the comedy of errors that it seemingly was, with a delightful appearance from Betty Spencer herself, looking perhaps just a little different. The whole thing is a gripping piece of telly, with script, direction and acting all first class. Er, but I have to say that’s an interesting choice of actor to play John Le Mesurier...

A Very English Scandal: Episode 1

"You've infected me, Jeremy, with the virus of homosexuality."

There's something about Jeremy Thorpe that fascinates more than any politician. Perhaps I, as a fairly core Liberal Democrat voter, find him more interesting than those who forget the party exists, but he's the dark heart of liberalism, much as his views and political principles were admirable. Superficial, showy, and worst of all covering up the evils committed by the loathsome Cyril Smith, he is hard to like for one so charismatic.

His story is also an interesting choice for Russell T. Davies. Oh, I know there's the obvious gay theme, but nevertheless RTD isn't usually one for politics dramas directed by Stephen Frears. It can't be denied, though; this first part looks as though he's been writing this stuff for years.This is, let's be clear, a bloody good piece of telly.

It's unusual for RTD in, perhaps, another sense; while the characters are naturally sketched superbly, there's more of an emphasis on plot and theme than would be expected. equally unexpected, though, is a stellar performance from Hugh Grant, full of nuance and far from the romantic comedies for which he is mainly known.

The tale is told through flashback, great dialogue as we would expect, and masterful characterisation. Ben Whishaw is superb as Norman Scott, and the ubiquitous Alex Jennings is well cast as Peter Bessell. Thorpe is an ambiguous character, no hypocrite in supporting the legalisation of homosexuality, but ambitious enough to seek a beard for a wife. And yet, should we condemn him when, this being the '60s, shocking levels of homophobia make it a necessary step to succeed in politics, unless you're a Tory yachtsman from Kent?

The inclusion of Leo Abse and the scenes around the legalisation of homosexuality are rightfully included as necessary context. The attitudes displayed even by those in support beggar belief, and show just how far the Overton window has shifted.

We've missed RTD ever since Cucumber; I'm glad his husband is in better health and am glad he's back. Roll on next episode.

Paddington (2014)

“Um, you're not using those ear brushes to clean your mouth are you, Mr Brown?"

Ok, this isn't my usual type of film, but I happened to watch this on the telly with my wife and daughter. Any you know what? It's bloody brilliant, far better than, frankly, it needed to be, genuinely clever and witty, Little Miss Llamastrangler was glued to the telly, and I can't say enough nice things about it.

I have only vague memories of the books and 1970s BBC series, so I can't compare the film to Paddington's previous outings in other media. But this is a perfectly plotted film where all the characters, even the stuffy Mr Brown, are ether fundamentally likeable or splendidly comical grotesques or both, unless they happen to be the delightfully dastardly Miss Clyde. The film knowingly plays up all the London visual cliches for an international audience and, most heartwarming for these days of Brexit, tabloid stupidity and a worrying insularity, is fundamentally a positive story about an immigrant, an asylum seeker, who may look different from everybody else but is just as easy to love.

All this, and a cockney Peter Capaldi. The film is quirky, uplifting, gripping and frequently laugh out loud funny. It's a film that has to be seen, and not jut for those of us who can use our young children as an excuse. Brilliant stuff.

Perfume: The Story of a Murderer (2006)

"Because it's a legend, you numbskull!"

I must have read Patrick Suskind's novel back in the late '90s, so my memories are hazy. I remember liking it, but little else. Huge Nirvana fan that I am, though, I'm well aware that "Scentless Apprentice" on In Utero is entirely about the novel, the only novel that Kurt Cobain ever wrote a song about.

But what of the film? Well, they did the best they could- it's well-shot, well-acted, well-made- but there's no getting around the fact that the book is unfilmable. The visuals are sumptuous, yes, especially of Provence, but it is the olfactory, not the visual, that is the point. A film cannot convey smell in the way that words on a page can. This is a valiant attempt at the impossible.

Still, as I said, it's a well-made film. Ben Whishaw is very good, John Hurt's narration is excellent, Dustin Hoffman gets a fun little part, and the harshness of eighteenth century France is conveyed well. But the very oddness and creepiness of Jean-Baptiste Grenooulle as a character leads to a lack of charisma at the centre of the film, something that matters less to the novel. However gorgeous this film looks it is, ultimately, a failure.

Richard II (Rupert Goold, 2012)

"For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground / And tell sad stories of the deaths of kings."

This is the first of four plays to be screened by the BBC under the title of "The Hollow Crown". Coming next will be Henry IV Parts 1 and 2, followed by Henry V, all of them, like this play, filmed as full dramas, with elaborate costumes, sumptuous location filming and the full visual feast of modern, high budget, television drama. And that isn't something that has been done since the 1970s, a very different age of television. This is not one of those occasional BBC 4 dramas, based on current theatre runs, which still have one foot in the theatre, with only limited use of the moving camera. This is the full medium of television being applied to Shakespeare. Modern methods of visual storytelling, unheard of the 1590s, are fully utilised. Realism is the rule; the locations and settings straightforwardly evoke the real world of the late fourteenth century. This is television, not theatre.

And that's very interesting, because there's a constant tension between the theatrical medium of Shakespeare's playscript and the medium of television to which that script is being applied here. Modern television drama, with its fast pace and fast cutting, adheres to a philosophy of "show, don't tell". This fits awkwardly with those scenes, so frequent in Shakespeare, where characters describe battles, gruesome happenings and other things which happen off-stage. This was a necessary device for the Elizabethan stage, of course, where it was best to avoid having to depict such things. But it sits awkwardly with the medium of television, where beheadings by the cliffside and location filming at real beaches, woods and castles are all possible. There are many scenes in which speeches are juxtaposed with a visual depiction of what is being described. On the one hand, all of this is brilliant. On the other hand, it is often made awkwardly obvious that Shakespeare was writing for a very different medium.

That isn't always the case, of course. The television medium can often serve instead to emphasise meaning; Richard's last minute decision to cancel the trial by combat between Mowbray and Bolingbroke is made all the more effective by the visual depiction of the sheer expense of organising the event. Nevertheless, there's a tension between the two mediums.

Ben Whishaw is superb as a fey and effete Richard, famously based on Michael Jackson and a little reminiscent of John Hurt's Caligula from I, Clavdivs.  It's a stand-out performance, showing us a Richard who seems to care little for affairs of state, and robs his nobles for his wars as but a casual afterthought. The pet monkey pretty much symbolises his fickle, pleasure-loving nature. This is a man who ill befits the rather warlike nature of mediaeval kingship. He's a camp king in a very butch world. I recall at University I studied this play in conjunction with Marlowe's Edward II. The parallels are strong in any case, but such a very camp Richard makes them all the more so. This is the first time I've seen Ben Whishaw (I've yet to see The Hour), but he's truly a revelation here. I don't doubt that his Hamlet would probably have been superb.

The rest of the cast is hugely impressive, too, from Rory Kinnear's troubled, more than usually conscientious yet determined Bolingbroke to Patrick Stewart's outstanding John of Gaunt. The "This Sceptred Isle" speech is delivered slowly, with deliciously bitter irony, in one of the standout moments of the production. Yet the highlight is undoubtedly Whishaw's self-pity, as power slips gradually away from Richard. David Morrissey's merciless Northumberland and Tom Goodman-Hill's anxious Sir Stephen Scrope are also worth singling out for praise. The play's awesomely rich themes of the nature of kingship, whether any subject has the right to depose a king anointed by God, and how Richard, in denying Bolingbroke his rights of succession, thereby undermines his own, are brought out anew by the performances. These themes may seem as if they belong to another age, but they don't really. They point forward, of course, to the follies and the death of Charles I. And we see the same power relationships everywhere, whether within the ranks of the Mafia, in the boardroom, or in the dynamics of teenage gangs. Because that's what mediaeval aristocrats and kings always were: gangsters.

This is only the beginning, of course. Henry ends the play in deep penitence, filled with a mixture of regret and paranoia. He's dismayed to hear of Richard's death. This original sin will lead to profound and bloody consequences…