Layer Cake (2004)

"England. Typical. Even drug dealers don't work weekends."

I'd wager this film was not entirely without influence in Daniel Craig winning a certain high profile role a couple of years later, but it deserves recognition for far more than that. The directorial debut of Matthew Vaught after producing Lock, Stock and Snatch, it superficially resembles them with its gangster subject matter and its fast, witty directorial style.

Except it’s more than this. Layer Cake is certainly a fast-paced gangster film with a complex plot full of layers upon layers of motives and double crosses in the dangerous, impossible to escape world of criminality. But it’s unnamed protagonist is deliberately different from the stereotype- middle class, educated, professional and unflashy, he’s only in crime because of the money to be made from the drugs trade, and intends to make his fortune and then retire. Naturally, he isn’t going to be allowed to do this for all sorts of reasons involving various British character actors.

It’s amusing to see the character of the Duke as a contrast; clearly intended as a piss-take of the typical British cinematic gangster, he’s a joke, out of his league and inevitably doomed. Our protagonist is different, right?

Over a riveting couple of hours we slowly discover that no, he isn’t really, in spite of his smarts and his apparent sense. This is not a world from which one can ever escape, or expect a long life to expectancy. However clever he is, however he may run rings round his many sudden enemies after an ecstasy deal gone wrong, this world will kill him- and it’s fitting that he should be killed over a girl, randomly, after he thinks he’s got out.

What adds even more depth, though, is that the film is about something. Once there was cops and robbers, then along cane the drugs trade. As the opening narration says, one day all this will be legal. But, for the past several decades, prohibition has spawned a shocking amount of unnecessary crimes and innocent victims. And that’s the moral of this film; prohibition has blood on its hands.

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.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (2009)

“Excuse me, I have to go and vomit.”

I think I may have reached a turning point. I’ve enjoyed all the Harry Potter films, but up until now I have somewhat regretted the increasing seriousness of the films, in contrast to the sense of fun and wonder which the first film had. With this one, though, I may be starting to appreciate the more serious later films without pining for a more innocent past. This is probably because the ongoing plot and character development begins to bear real fruit at this point.

We begin with Harry and Dumbledore and a load of iconic London landmarks, which are looking very cinematic and presented as magical, in a way which evokes Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere and the works of China Mieville. A bit of a scrap occurs and the Millennium Bridge is destroyed with delightful gusto. It’s an exciting beginning, which sets us up for a dramatic film. There’s a bit of exposition as the pair visit an old pall of Dumbledore’s, Horace Slughorn, who is to be the new potions teacher and who has a very convincing armchair costume!

Probably the most interesting character in all of these films, partly because of Alan Rickman’s performance, is Snape, who has until now seemed to be a red herring. However, a visit from Bellatrix leads to the revelation that he is apparently a baddie! The fact that he later (SPOILER ALERT!!!) murders Dumbledore, is another subtle hint! But for now it’s a shock to see him swearing allegiance to the Mallfoy’s and to Voldemort himself.

Eventually, term finally starts, although not before some argy-bargy in the train (again). Snape is the new defence against the dark-arts teacher and is suspiciously ineffective in the role. There is a new MacGuffin in the form of Tom Riddle’s diary, and a new emphasis on unease between everyone at Hogwarts. Harry’s possessiveness over the diary drives a wedge between him and his friends, while the mutual attraction between Hermione and Ron, what with them being teenagers in a movie, predictably leads to denial and awkwardness between them. Once again, as with previous Harry Potter films, and indeed with Buffy, the moral is clearly that a hero needs friends.

It’s an uncomfortable term, ending on the most uncomfortable note as Harry overhears Snape with Draco. The plot thickens as Harry discovers that Tom Riddle has a past with Slughorn which he is unwilling to discuss. Slughorn is not the only link to potions; in this film they positively abound, and Ron seems to be under the influence of a love potion. Slughorn, meanwhile, is soon the victim of an attempted poisoning. Things continue to go from bad to worse, and Tom Riddle’s diary is a sort of ring to Harry’s Frodo.

Fortunately there is such a thing as liquid luck. There is also such a thing as Hagrid, who is, as ever, a good friend. As soon as the gang gets back together, all friends again, things begin to look up, and for the first time we discover what horcruxes are, and the quest to destroy them all begins. This is, in fact, the beginning of the end of the film series, and a suitable point for Dumbledore, the father figure, to be killed off! This is a shocking event. It seems that Snape was the Half-Blood Prince after all. It is up to Harry and his friends to fulfil Dumbledore’s mission, destroy the horcruxes and vanquish Voldemort.

I enjoyed that. It was dark, but had an epic quality that previous films have not. If the final two films are anything like this then I will enjoy the ride!

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (2005)

"Ron, you spoiled everything!"

The cast of the Harry Potter films continues to dazzle. This time we have, among others, David Tennant, Robert Pattinson and the sadly departed Roger Lloyd Pack. Again, the cast is noticeably older, as are the characters: we have a typical media teenage romance with Hermione and Ron in the sense that they pretend to hate each other. We have a nod to the fact that British schools, these days, have adopted that alien American institution that is the Prom. And once again we have a film that, while it is no more serious than the last one, is a little more serious and less fun than I would have liked. It certainly looks darker, though, from the opening titles onwards. 

We have the bizarre prospect of a Quidditch World Cup combined with political skulduggery from the Ministry of Magic while Voldemort's Death Eaters stalk the school. Like the Sochi Winter Olympics this is a highly politicised sporting event and, Harry being the hero and all, we just know that he's going to end up winning this Triwizard Tournament thing.

The obligatory new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is one eyed, highly eccentric, abrasive, played by the excellent Brendan Gleeson and, as is also traditional, an obvious red herring. Some traditions never change. The three contestants meanwhile are Victor Krum of Bulgaria, Fleur Delacours of France and Cedric Diggory of the Twilight Saga. Inevitably, Harry too is drawn in. The film starts with "Harry Potter and..." after all.

Unfortunately everyone, Ron included, thinks he cheated, and he's persona non grata at school, something which I'm sure every teenager must have felt at some time or other. Being a teenager is horrible, and being fourteen is generally the nadir of life.

Harry is friendless and pursued by the tabloids, in a storyline which rather nicely parallels J.K. Rowling's experiences with the happily departed News of the World; life imitating art, or the reverse, I wonder?

This film essentially constitutes a quest narrative through the medium of sport, with a bit of teenage angst centred around this Prom thing which the kids seem to care about as though they were in an American high school for some reason.

Ron and Hermione have fallen out big time, as teenagers who fancy each other tend to do in films and telly. But he three friends eventually unite to help Harry; like Buffy, the ultimate moral of the film is that even heroes would be helpless without friends.

There's a final showdown with Voldemort, and a big revelation about the night that Voldemort killed Harry's parents; it was the magic of his mother's sacrifice that saved Harry, magic that has now expired. Cedric is left dead and the mood of the film is left very, very dark.

Harry's final chat with Dumbledore is lacking something; Michael Gambon may be a much-admired actor but he's no Richard Harris.

This is my least favourite of the series so far, and the darkest by far. These two facts are definitely linked. 

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004)

"Come now, Harry. The Ministry of Magic doesn't send people to Azkaban for blowing up their aunts!"

Well, this film is different. The kids are all looking older and the more serious tone persists. We have a notorious prison escapee who turns out to be a misunderstood goodie. Politicians are shown to be stupid and cynical- heaven forbid. The plot is resolved by turning back time as per Superman II. There's a new teacher, Professor Lupin, played by Gary Oldman, who is that unusual combination of werewolf and red herring. And we have a new Dumbledore in the person of Michael Gambon.

We begin with a bit of comic relief, though, before the seriousness starts, as Harry blows up his aunt like a balloon. And there's a pub called The Leaky Cauldron where, it seems, Ian Brown from the Stone Roses is randomly seen reading A Brief History of Time.

But it isn't long before Harry is warned that notorious fugitive Sirius Black (I almost wrote Conrad Black!) is after him, we meet Professor Lupin and it's a new school year at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, Snape is the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and he isn't very nice, which is as good a time as ever to praise Alan Rickman's performance in these films; he's playing a red herring, and thus gets to play a combination of the two types of character he's best known for playing; the villain and the miserable git. He was born to play this part.

Harry's good at that scary looking Quidfitch thing, apparently, and is promoted to "seeker". But he soon learns the lesson that team sports are not a good idea, especially when it's tipping it down. 

Things get very dark, very soon. There is a magic map. Hagrid's hippogriff is rather harshly executed. And there seems to be a constant theme of memories, and dark memories at that, running through the film. It all goes horribly wrong, but fortunately Hermione is able to turn back time and save both the day and the low flying hippogriff.

I'm not sure about this trend towards darkness and away from fun and quirkiness, but this is nevertheless an exciting and entertaining film, and the acting talent on display is absurdly brilliant.

Doctor Who: A Christmas Carol

“Halfway out of the dark…”

This whole episode looks bloody fantastic, from the opening bit of CGI showing a very cloudy planet, to the many shots of fish swimming about in the air, to the brilliantly imagined futuristic yet utterly Dickensian style. Best of all, it all feels so very Christmassy, in spite of the spaceship captain saying that “Christmas is cancelled.”

The aforementioned ship is about to crash on to the aforementioned planet, which is causing a bit of bother for the captain and her crew, including one strangely Geordi La Forge- like person. Fortunately, on board the honeymoon suite are Amy and Rory Pond, both dressed rather interestingly. Never before on Doctor Who have we been given so much insight into the sexual peccadilloes of our regulars…

On the surface (which, I have to emphasise again, looks magnificent), we hear a voiceover which describes Christmas is very evocative (and very secular) terms. This is being delivered by the great Michael Gambon in tones which are far more cockneyfied, we’ll later discover, than they were in his youth. His character traits can be summed up as “right miserable git” and “mardyarse” (A word which, incidentally, cannot be legally used by anyone hailing from south of the Watford Gap. I’ve noticed much flouting of that law in recent years.). The current targets of his gittishness are a poor family whose surname may in fact be Cratchit after all (Abigail, who we haven’t met yet, is a Pettigrew, but her sister’s married name might not be). Their relative has spent a generation in suspended animation as “security” for a loan, and miserable old Kazran Sardick (great name) won’t even let her out for Christmas. Come to think of it, he won’t even lift a finger to save 4,003 people on a spacecraft above, two of whom are Amy and Rory, something he could easily do, even at the personal request of the president.

Enter the Doctor. Through a chimney, naturally. He seems to get clean rather suspiciously quickly, but makes quite an impression. Sadly, Sardick is impressed. The controls which could save the ship are isomorphic (ha!), the Doctor can’t just use the TARDIS for some reason, and Sardick is still being a git. Fortunately, the Doctor hears a Christmas carol at that precise moment and an idea suddenly comes to him. Gosh. I wonder what it could be?

The Ghost of Christmas past starts by using the fact that Sardick was unable to strike the son of the poor family, being haunted by the memory of his own abusive father. Playing timey-wimey tricks with footage may be a bit of a favourite Moffat trick but he still manages, as here, to find fresh slants on it. The scenes of the Doctor insinuating himself into the young Kazran’s life, while the older Sardick feels his memories change even as he watches the screen, are just wonderful.

It’s becoming increasingly clear that Matt Smith’s Doctor has a fantastic rapport with kids; the scenes with the young Kazran are great. The best bit, of course, is when the Doctor assures him that “I think you’ll find I’m universally recognised as a mature and responsible adult”, only to find that’s a lie too big even for the psychic paper.

After doing a spot of fishing in Kazran’s room (as you do), the Doctor finds out that he may have bitten off more than he can chew. In fact, it’s a whopper, and the scenes with the Doctor and young Kazran being menaced by the shark are hilarious. I love Matt Smith’s Doctor.

But soon the shark is dying, unable to survive outside the clouds for long. Fortunately, though, there’s an “icebox” downstairs and, with a little bit of timey-wimeyness, they manage to move the shark inside one of the caskets for those poor unfortunates being frozen as “security”. The person making way for the shark, as fate and / or plot convenience would have it, is Abigail, who can certainly sing a bit. She’s the same girl, coincidentally, whom the elder Sardick was so gittish about earlier. But what do those numbers mean on the side of her casket…?

The three of them have a bit of fun travelling in the TARDIS, Kazran takes a bit of a shine to this gorgeous woman, and they end up doing it again and again, Christmas Eve after Christmas Eve, in what is a lovely advertisement of the Doctor’s lifestyle. But, as we know, the Doctor’s lifestyle carries a price, and Abigail’s fondness for the older and much more besotted Kazran is fated to end in tragedy. While the Doctor merrily enjoys his lifestyle (is the whole thing about Marilyn Monroe a bit of a metaphor about how he always runs away from commitment, or am I reading too much into this?), Abigail tells Kazran a secret which breaks his heart. Suddenly, he coldly dismisses the Doctor, never wanting to see him again. We’ve all guessed what the secret is by now, of course, but Kazran’s obvious devastation is no less affecting.

We also get a nice “Cratchit family” scene, of course, with Tiny Tim being unimpressed by the Doctor’s card tricks, and the Doctor’s advice to the adolescent Kazran on how to handle his first kiss is the funniest thing ever. Moffat’s given us some first class scripts before, but they’ve tended to be rather intricate and plotty in nature. This is his first triumph of mixing humour, sentiment and real emotional depth, I think. It’s very Christmassy and superbly judged, but there’s real emotional depth here.

Amy, of course, is the Ghost of Christmas Present, and it’s she who is told why Sardick remains unreformed. The Doctor has forced Abigail into his life and broken his life. She has but one day to live. How is Sardick to decide which day it is to be? The way the Doctor assumes the role of Ghost of Christmas Future, and breaks this impasse, is not only very, very clever in its timey-wimeyness but pitch-perfect in terms of the characters, their development and the themes. For the young Kazran to hear his older self spit out his bleak and selfish soul, bitterly asserting that “I’ll die cold, alone and afraid. Of course I will, we all do”, is quite eyebrow-raisingly powerful for a Christmas prime time family show, yet it works perfectly. The only thing left is for the plot to require Abigail to be woken, and sure enough: it happens.

There’s a happy ending; 4,003 lives are saved. But Moffat refuses the temptation to save Abigail, something I think is well-judged. This may be very sad, but beautiful things often are.