Dreary, not super, heroes

I watched Watchmen last week hoping for an engagement with the ideas of a graphic novel that gave art status to the comic strip, but the biggest thing the film gave me was a splitting headache. In addition it was very unimpressive as an action flick. Several people walked out of the cinema, not ostensibly because of the obscene violence but because it was so boring, like a monotone professor going through the motions at a tedious lecture. Most of the critics had been less than impressed though I have always had guarded caution about their sometimes sniffy opinions, but on this they were correct. It's two and half hours that you'll never get back (though, in some way, be relieved too because it felt like four). And so another Alan Moore classic laid waste to. If you feel you need to atone for your sins and you have a masochistic streak, you can't get self-flagellation much better than this.
Ever since the Lord of the Rings cycle proved that three hour long films could be commercial, superheroic cinematic outings tend to be narratively flatulent, leaving you gasping for air, not for more. Peter Jackson has a lot to answer for (not learning his lesson with King Kong). So Spiderman 3 dragged on by incorporating too many villains, the Dark Knight disturbed the body clock by being at least half an hour longer than necessary and Watchmen could have been wrapped in two hours, easily. For once the suits in Hollywood were spot-on, trying to pare down the running time. they also questioned the level of sex and violence. They were right.
The director, Zack Snyder, doesn't seem to be at home unless dozens, if not hundreds, of bodies are sliced, diced and hideously broken. I can imagine him being an enthusiastic autopsy student. He's got some issues. Altaa, who was with me, said the picture was the product of a sick mind. It was hard to disagree. Even splatter junkies like Alex Cox and John Carpenter would be trying hard to not muster a yawn, such was the repitive carnage on all parts of human anatomy.
In an interview, Snyder had talked about theme that would be raised - even if the concept of self-doubting superheroes, novel in 1986, is rather old hat in 2009 - but being academically successful does not guarantee an ability to be engagingly creative. Indeed, the decision to set the scene in the 1980s (broadly), as the book does, looks less bold and more slavishly unoriginal in its devotion, given the paucity of any reason to do so (certainly not to help most of the pubescent pimples that will flock to it). As for the myriad assaults on anything that walks, Snyder, feeling pressed for time, must have plumped for gore over ideas, sensing that horrific displays of pain would distil the essence of the graphic novel.
True, towards the end, the whole concept of a superhero is examined from an indirect angle and in the grandiose setting of an Egyptian temple in Antartica, the movie starts to become enjoyable ( abrief interlude). The question being asked is: if a superhero is to save the world, why do they so often end up preserving the status quo? The villain's utilitarian solution, however, isn't questioned nearly enough - kill millions to save billions? Hmm. The First World War was the War to end all Wars, but merely proved an entrée to the Second World War. And WWII gave birth to the cold War, which in turn almost prompted WWIII. Moreover, in the plot, the Soviets are threatening to invade Afghanistan (the real-time event in 1979 did not occur) with, of course, no explanation as why this was thought in public by western policy makers to be so serious. With what we know now, the USA actively provoked the invasion by communist Russia (though kept it quiet, preferring to cite the danger to Pakistan and thence to oil shipping routes in the Persian Gulf), but by following unquestioningly the line of a 1980s book that such activity places world security in peril (instead of creating a Vietnam for the USSR), the director is proved to be a dullard at history.
I have seen Snyder's 300 and heard unfavourable things about his remake of Dawn of the Dead, which didn't exactly fill me with confidence for his handling of this film. He may insist that there was more blood in 300, but even if we don't dispute that contention, the action there was done in a cartoonish fashion, fairly distant from what we know. The pain inflicted in Watchmen (not just for the hapless character, but in the mind of the viewer too) is bone-crunchingly realistic. In one scene, a hero and a heroine literally dismantle a gang of hoodlums, gratuitously, because they can. Wow! Thought-provoking! Repeated shock just desensitises, but it will probably titillate enough gorehound adults (primarily men) to become a runaway success like 300.
Other items that served to irritate was Snyder's scattergun approach to playing slivers of the acnon of legendary 'popular' music. I liked all the songs, but it doesn't mean they are appropriate to what was enacted and in some cases they were sullied. Just because something has a great chord or two doesn't automatically justify it over original music. Not everyone has the touch of Martin Scorsese. Further on this list were the holes in the plot, an example of which was that the so-called smartest man in the world has a ridiculously obvious password encrption code. Lastly, I recognised who the villian would turn out to be in the first reel as it were because his silhouette was similar to a character in one of the group pictures that have received so much advertsing.
Not everything was bad. I liked Verne Troyer's cameo (Danny DeVito-style roles await) and the persona of Rorscach was enjoyably misnathropic (though when his mask was revealed he looked the actor's 47 years, rather than the charcter's 35). The Dr strangelove war room was a lovely homage too, no matter how familiar it is in fiction these days. So Watchmen gets a kind 2/5. The most intelligent film I've seen about superheores was The Incredibles and that managed to be family fare without any hurdles. Says it all really.

Dreams of Oscar

I suppose I should write something about the Oscars while they are still fresh in my mind, if no-one else’s, not for the delectation of others but just to remind myself in future years, how I thought in 2009. I was exceptionally pleased that Slumdog Millionaire won - it’s not always that the best film nominated wins Best Picture, but to win Best Director was satisfying in confirming that it was deserving, as well as being a gilded feather in the cap of Danny Boyle. It accrued further Oscar glory, though by taking the two most important awards at the most important film ceremony, it has received industry approval to go with the applause of the critics and the adulation of the public.
Other items that caught my attention was Sean Penn’s victory in the Best Actor category for Milk. Now normally, before the reviews had come out, were I to see a billboard advertising such a movie I would have drawn a blank and it may have fled my memory. But, purely by chance, I went onto Wikipedia’s main page one day (a font of useful and intriguing trivia) and the main bulletin anniversary concerned Harvey Milk, the first openly gay American politician. He had a tragic end and became a martyr for gay rights, but he had an engaging life story too. So when I saw Sean Penn beaming out (in slightly naff clothing) from the Milk poster, the thrill of recognition on something otherwise obscure was deeply fulfilling. And so that co-incidental viewing of the advance notice on Wikipedia fuelled my enthusiasm to go and see the film, which I hope to do next week.
For Best Supporting Actor, Heath Ledger was a shoo-in, fully meriting this title not just for his thespianism but also for carrying the movie The Dark Knight for much of it. This post-humous gong shows that Hollywood knows how to honour its own. It was an incredible performance in a great movie and rather put Jack Nicholson’s rendition rather in the shade, somehow blending that malevolent stint and Cesare Romero’s lunatic fun. The film itself was half an hour too long and one of the set-pieces could have been cut - the jaunt to Hong Kong could have fallen under a script doctor’s scalpel, stuck in there to please the Chinese in Olympic year.
Finally, in the Best Documentary category, it was great to see Man on Wire emerge triumphant. - a picture that knows how to build the story going from daring feat to dashing escapade while intertwining with the characters’ real lives, until the climax suspended between the two towers of the World Trade Center, with all the ghostly echoes that inspires. A movie that celebrates human achievement, ingenuity and ability to dream.

A spreading contagion

I'm glad that ITV has been denied the right to use product placement in their programmes by the government - it's justice for their terrible treatment of sport, particularly football. After Fulham's rout by Manchester United in the FA Cup, I, who had tuned in midway through the second half after listening to superior commentary on the radio, only got to see Ji-Sung Park's goal in live play. So, I expected to see a review of the second half goals after the match finished (ITV never shows first half goals unlike the BBC). But after the ad break, we had a quick medley of all four goals from one angle each - blink and you'd miss them - before Steve Ryder solicited brief opinions from his studio guests before saying that a proper review of the match had been shunted off to the highlights package. And then he was gone, after less than two minutes. It's a disgrace. This was a normal football game that did not extend beyond normal injury time, yet ITV, to pack out its advert break, denigrates post-match discussion.
And last night, there was not even a highlights show of the Champions League action on ITV1 when the games weren't even shown on the main channel, but in a logic-deying move, the highlights were available the night before when they showed the Liverpool-Real Madrid match in its entirety and showed the goals from the Chelsea-Juventus tie in the post-match review. I could understand if no English team as playing last night, but it was the defending European champions Manchester United plus Arsenal. The Champions League has been on ITV since its inception, but all that experience since seems to count for nothing - quality schedulers must be bleeding away from ITV as its future is thrown into increasing doubt. What else can explain a cock-up on a programme they have had for so long?
So long may ITV be forbidden to use product placement - with less revenue they'll be able to bid for less sport that they can mess up.

Limited time, but must fly?

I'm disappointed by the fact that Odeon cinemas Chatham Dockside did not show Clive Owen's new flick The International for longer this week (wot, no discount Tuesdays or Orange Wednesdays for a major thriller?). It would have been pleasant to see some bankers get shafted or though they are only fictional. No chance of Owen taking down (alive) Sir Fred Hoodwink shouting "this is for ruining RBS and spurring the global crisis, while padding your own pockets." As regards my appreciation of Hustle, I think a real team should conspire to trick him out of millions of pounds with an even juicer lure - that would be satisfaction. I can hear the music of the Daniel Craig-Casino Royale-inspired credits now. But in real life I can settle for him being blackballed by the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St Andrews - one of if not the most prestigious golfing venue in the world.

Prince Charles and his wife may have a busy scehdule producing quack potions and so forth, but did they really have to fly to Chile to observe (and taste) organic wine production. The whole point of organic wine is to be more environmentally friendly, so how is that achieved by flying for half a hemisphere? It reminds me of an advert for wine bags that copiously boasted of its environmental credentials over the bottled stuff and then offered a prize draw which was a paid trip to fly to South Africa for a lucky couple, thus nullifying the carbon savings it had achieved through its manufacturing process. The executive who thought that up needs to whacked around the head with a full wine bag. And we all know how The Independent goes in for such extravagant hand-wringing over climate change, yet last year when reading several articles online (usually about green issues as per my interest), a banner advert running along the side of the web page talked up the sparkling ooportunities of flying to New York for the weekend, which was slightly incongruous to the slant of the article.

More of a lottery if you don't practise them

On Sunday, for the second time in the space of a season, Harry Redknapp lost a penalty shootout to Manchester United. He said after the match that there was no point in practising penalties since it was all a lottery. And to think that he almost became England manager. Had he said that after England had been knocked out of a tournament on penalties, he would have been pilloried by all and sundry and rightly since he was echoing all England's failures down the years to progress in a penalty shootout.
Ironically, the only Spurs player to practise penalty-taking (and that on an individual basis) did not even keep the ball on target, but the player in question is David Bentley, whose confidence has been obliterated. He needs to leave Tottenham in the summer to rebuild his career at another medium-size club.
As for the victors, had Man Utd, not bolloxed up the European Supercup they could have been on for an amazing septuple of silverware in a season, but a quintuple would still put all that previous Chelsea talk of a quadruple in the shade.
Meanwhile, times must be tough at Blackburn Rovers, if they can't even spell the name of one of their star strikers. At the league game before yesterday's match, I noticed on Match of the Day 2, that Blackburn had mispelt their Paraguayan forward on his shirt as Satna Cruz. Newcastle United misspelt Lovenkrands in his first match for the Toon, but the Danish midfielder knew what he was joining. No wonder, Roque wants away from Ewood.

Redemption Hollywood-style

On Saturday, I finally watched the shawshank Redemption all the way through, having previously only watched the first half of it due to time constraints. It is a memorable movie and I can see why many rate it as one of their favourites, with a hrash film that has a quasi-materialistic redemption at the end. It is very similar in fact to the first half of The Count of Monte Cristo (which it namechecks along with Treasure Island), but still expands that over a mammoth 2hrs 20 mins. It also has a manipulative pull (like the Dead Poets' Society) to set up black-and-white (and indeed unlikely) situations of characters within the colour that can be afforded the drab pallor of a mid-twentieth century prison stretch, so that we are given very clear directions on who to root for. Tim Robbins' Andy has a saintly fortitude beyond endurance until other people start getting hurt, Morgan Freeman reprises his salt-of-the-earth persona that he play so well in so many movies. The coterie of crims around Andy and Freeman's character 'Red' are loveable types at heart. The rest are neutral at best, with plenty of liberal Hollywood cliches such as the unforgiving senetencing judge at the beginning "Andy du Frain, you have shown yourself to be a person with no remorse..." that could be filched from dozens of fictions. Also, there is a logistical impossibility at the end. If you haven't seen the film don't read the next few sentences. Andy busts out of prison by digging a hole over 19 years with a small rockhammer. He burrows from a place near the cell door which he covers with a poster. Yet on the day after his breakout, as morning roll call goes ahead, we see two prisoners before the end of the block to emphasise his absence in a visual medium. Yet, if Andy was burowing through, surely that he would encounter those two prisoners before he got into the waste disposal area. That's something that should have been picked up in the rushes, though I admit, it only came to me after a night's sleep, testament to the powerful and vivid nature of the movie. I feel the need to criticise because so many uncritically hail it as a great movie, but for all that I've said, it's a very good film.