A Cock and Bull Story (2005)

 "Poke your little pecker out the window..."

I've actually read (and indeed blogged) The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, which on balance added to my enjoyment of this very funny film. And yet one might just as well see this as a precursor to The Trip, and the partnership of Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon.

Of course, the whole thing is quite postmodern, alternating scenres of Tristram Shandy, that famiusly unfilmable novel, with a behind the scenes narrative where Brydon and, especially, Coogan, play versions of themselves, rather effectively.

The joke throughout, of course, is that Coogan himself hasn't read the novel, and everyone else has. Through all the buddy buddy stuff with Coogan, the jokes about his sexual difficulties following the birth of the baby and his habits of infidelity nonetheless, it's really all about the fourth wall.

Stephen Fry's academic cameo puts it best: the novel probably shouldn't be seen as postmodern, an anachronistic term. There's nothing modern about textual self-referentialism- see Rabelais and Cervantes- but it becomes rather less fasionable after Lawrence Sterne. By 2005, it's back, and can be commingled with actual postmodernism. Hence this film, and its almost obvious playfulness with the fourth wall, where Coogan's sexual wakwardness echoes Walter Shandy's. Yet Coogan's life is like the Shany of the novel; too complex, real and nuanced to accurately be summed up by any narrative or work of art.

This film isn't as deep as I've made it sound. But it's funny.

Trainspotting (1996)

"I haven't felt that good since Archie Gemmill scored against Holland in 1978."

This is one of my favourite films of all times, and it’s quite inexcusable that I’ve waited until I’m 550-odd films in to blog it. It’s superb; creTively directed, delightfully non-linear in its narration in a very post-Pulp Fiction way, perfectly cast, hilarious, devastating, and based on Irvine Welsh’s truly awesome novel.

Watching it again for the umpteenth fine, although for the first time in at least fifteen years, is how the charming, intelligent, outwardly sympathetic Mark Renton is actually a complete bastard. Yes, he’s complicit in the neglect and death of baby Dawn after he introduces the baby’s mother to heroin, but at least he’s not a parent. Yes, it’s unfair that Spud goes to prison and not his middle class self. Yes, he makes a lot of money in a big heroin deal, although as he doesn’t betray Spud I don’t think he needs feel any guilt about double crossing Sick Boy or Bregbie. No; they deserved all they got. But Tommy? He loses his girlfriend because Renton tricks him into letting him have a video having sex with Lizzie, causing Lizzie to leave him. Then the clean-living Tommy, devastated, asks Renton for heroin, which he gets. All this directly leads to AIDS and his horrible death, which is entirely Renton’s fault. But he’s negative.

Renton may have the privileges that come with being bareTir, but he’s as much of a bastard as anyone in the film. It’s just that he gets to cover it up with his middle class ways. And I bet none of his mates would have had the option of moving to London and making loads of money in the property business.

Sick Boy, despite of his amusing obsession with Sean Connery and his despair at Dawn’s death, is a grasping, cynical, amoral bastard. Begbie is a a monster of the type that far too many blokes have in their social circles. But Renton is as bad as any of them, and I think that’s what Welsh and Danny Boyle I tend us to conclude.

Still one of the greatest film ever made. I love the wit, I love the style, I love the worst toilet in Scotland, I love the nostalgic glimpse of a branch of John Menzies. And the soundtrack is awesome.

Nanny McPhee (2005)

"I did knock..."

I wasn't originally going to blog this, hence the fact that I'm wings big it without any notes. It isn't the sort of thing I'd usually blog; just one of many bit of Christmas telly that we're catching up on the Sky Plus, in this case recorded because Mrs Llamastrangler is rather fond of it.

But in hindsight it deserves a blogging, not least because I have nothing else to blog at the moment; it's been a busy few days. Besides, it's rather good, and Emma Thompson would be my ideal choice for the next Doctor Who donuts worth a look at her.

She is, of course, brilliant, both as star and as writer of this adapted screenplay. This may fit into an existing tradition of children's fantasy in a Victorian milieu (cough Mary Poppins cough), but that is no bad thing. Oh,of course you can criticise it for uncomplainingly showing us a socially stratified world, but that's implicit in the setting. To complain would be churlish. And yes, Colin Firth is the same in everything and only ever plays Mr. Darcy, but he fits in nicely here.

The fantasy conceit is brilliant. Emma Thompson is brilliant. Thomas Sangster is brilliant. Angela Lansbury is... interestingly miscast. We even get brief scenes of Derek Jacobi camping it up. As recent kids' films go, this is one of the best.

Finding Neverland (2004)

“But I’m not Peter Pan. He is.”

There are two types of films starring Johnny Depp: those which are directed by Tim Burton, and those which aren’t, and on average the former category is better. This is definitely an exception, and shows once again that Depp’s acting range is phenomenal. He’s not just a pretty face, but possibly the most talented leading man in Hollywood today. It’s either him or Robert Downey Jr.

Depp plays the childlike yet wise J.M. Barrie, true eccentric and creator of Peter Pan, with a Scottish accent that sounds flawless to this Sassenach; he has a real talent for accents. He isn’t obvious casting, but makes the role his own with his trademark attention to external mannerisms. There’s also a superb performance from Kate Winslet, and a puzzlingly small one from Dustin Hoffman.

The film chronicles the innocent relationship between Barrie and widowed single mother Sylvia Davies, and the increasingly close relationship between “Uncle Jim” and her four children. His relationship with both mother and children is entirely innocent, but a brief scene with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle at a cricket match makes it clear that suspicions were held even in 1903, decades before Jimmy Savile was born. It’s unfortunate, these days, that the main character is an Uncle Jim.

The children are the inspiration for the play Peter Pan, but the film gradually darkens with the realisation that Sylvia is not well, and the children are fated to be orphaned yet again. The most interesting of the children to the theme of the film is Peter, a boy who rejects imagination and storytelling, finding it hard to disentangle them from the lies he has always been told about the seriousness of both his parents’ illnesses. It is fitting that, of all the children, he seems to be the closest to “Uncle Jim”.

The climax of the film is deeply moving. Ok, if you must, I’ll admit that I cried, dammit, in the most manly way possible. Still, at least my girlfriend didn’t point and laugh. Much.