Review: Creed II

The first Creed felt like a minor miracle, a Rocky movie that reinvented the franchise by tapping into its core greatness even as it brought the story forward into a very different world. Creed II tries something even more difficult: it sets out to redeem Rocky IV, the silliest, most over-the-top (and yet somehow not the worst) film in the series. The result has its flaws, but when it works it takes the franchise’s biggest dead weight and lifts it high over its head.

On one level the story is little more than a series of fights and training montages as Creed (Michael B Jordan) initially wins the heavyweight title against a clapped-out champ, only to find a slick boxing promoter (Russell Hornsby) has a surprise for him: Russian punching machine Viktor Drago (Florian “Big Nasty” Munteanu), son of Rocky IV's Soviet killbot Ivan Drago (Dolph Lundgren). Everyone wants to see Creed take on the son of the man who killed his father – everyone except Rocky (Sylvester Stallone) – but does Creed really know what he’s fighting for? 

Like a lot of Hollywood genres, the boxing movie is confined by rules so strict the differences between films - and therefore the difference between success and failure - are minor at best. So original this is not, and it doesn't always excel when it comes to the genre's strengths. The fight scenes are good but not great, and the story's predictable arc holds back the film's more interesting characters... who are pretty much everyone apart from Rocky. This is what, his eighth film? And the guy wasn't all that interesting to begin with. 

This eventually figures out a reason why Creed needs Rocky, but the film really doesn't and if this series is to have any real future Creed (who does get a handful of strong scenes with his fiance, played by Tessa Thompson) needs to be established firmly as his own man. That's not to say Rocky needs to be retired, but he definitely needs to be bumped down the roster - this film's biggest flaw is the excess of "and now, let's see what's happening with Rocky" scenes that add little to proceedings.

In contrast, this could have done with a lot more Drago, and not just because Lundgren is a more interesting actor than Stallone. Where Rocky's subplot is about family and fear of failure - because everyone's subplot here is about family and fear of failure; this really goes all in on that side of things and it's a better film for it - Drago is a character that actually did fail and it destroyed his life. 

Now he's using his son to try and regain what he's lost, only his son never had any of that and (despite being a man-mountain killing machine) is fighting for something much more pure. This may say Creed on the poster, but it's the Dragos who turn out to be this film’s bitter, beating (on others) heart.

- Anthony Morris

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Review: The Nutcracker and the Four Realms

There’s a certain kind of Disney film that, given a hundred million dollars, you could probably make yourself. You know the type: after a brief handful of scenes set in a twee version of the recent past (the more English the better) to establish various rote character conflicts almost always involving family (dead parents usually come in handy here), our plucky lead finds themselves transported into a magical fantasy world that doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense and can possibly be read simply as a metaphor for our lead’s personal issues. 

Once in that fantasy world - which is almost always vaguely medieval and somewhat rural rather than steampunk urban or, say, Roman - she or he (but usually she) meets a collection of characters – some CGI, some big-name actors in outlandish costumes – while wandering through a variety of lavish yet somehow generic locations. Forests are good but castles are better, and once you throw in a couple of waterfalls or a mountain or two you're pretty much sorted.  For some reason, beaches rarely get a look in.

Now settled in at the castle, because our heroine is either "the chosen one" or some other obviously important figure from the past who is immediately inserted into an (often ceremonial) position of power rather than forced to muck out the stables for the next decade, she rapidly discovers there's some kind of conflict either long-brewing or about to come to a head. But good news! Being the chosen one / daughter of the former chosen one / clearly a magical visitor from a fabled land, she's the one who can restore peace to the kingdom.

Unfortunately the path to peace is being peddled by someone who seems just a little bit too eager to use our heroine's mythical status for their own power-hungry ends, and so before too long it's betrayal time as the good guys turn bad and the bad guys turn out to be plucky rebels / the last remains of the old way of life / just plain misunderstood. Kid, don't trust adults unless they're clearly trying to sell you something.

Now set on the right path, our heroine tools up for the fight in a way that often but not always involves literally using weapons (but only if this provides a kind of ironic counterpoint / "this isn't your parents fairytale" spin on how the heroine is traditionally seen), there's some sneaking around followed by some kind of exciting but strangely un-involving battle or chase sequence that ends when the bad guy is defeated and their army (which was on the point of victory) collapses without them. Hurrah!

Everyone now learns the importance of not being evil or prejudging people or whatever blah blah blah medal ceremony, tearful departure, magic is great, now all my emotional issues are resolved and I am an emotionally healthy adult unless I have to go back for the sequel, merch is on sale in the lobby or online.

If you like that, enjoy this.

- Anthony Morris

Out now: Romper Stomper

 

Watching Romper Stomper, the six part series based on the original 1992 film (out now on DVD and blu-ray), it’s clear the producers - which include the movie’s writer / director Geoffrey Wright - were faced with a dilemma. The original film is notorious for its right-wing politics, but the film itself is more about ceaseless motion and senseless violence than arguing any coherent philosophy. It’s a string of high-energy scenes of action, destruction and dancing (it’s largely structured like a dance movie), loosely justified by some racist slogans and Nazi flags.

But trying to sustain that level of energy and intensity across six hours would clearly be impossible; the film struggles to keep it up for 90 minutes. So instead of following up on the original’s focus on a bunch of manic clowns trashing Footscray largely because they can, this series is all about the politics, presenting a variety of people and groups united by their connection to an aggressive strand of right-wing activism that represents an evolution of the original film's skinhead thuggery.

The film trapped viewers in the world of its skinheads: we heard their music, we heard their views, and everyone outside them was seen as a subhuman target for violence. For some – most notably David Stratton, who refused to give it a star rating when it was covered on The Movie Show – this forced the audience to identify with a group they should despise. For others (okay, me), it was more that by focusing so closely on them, we were made to see their flaws: for all their posing they were simply violent dickheads tearing their lives apart, and anyone seeing anything admirable in these brutal clowns needed to pay a little more attention to what was actually taking place in the film.

Because the series is much more about the politics rather than the thrills (and cost) of physical violence, we have to have balance. So opposing Lachy Hulme’s Blake and his right wing “Patriot Blue” organisation we have the Antifa, a group of left-wing uni students whose mission it is to blunt the alt-right’s thrust into Australian society.

Between them are a small group of Muslim bystanders, people who largely want to live their lives without being targeted by Patriot Blue. But the Antifa are opposed to Patriot Blue first and foremost, which leaves these characters trapped between two warring sides with no-one to stand up for them but themselves.

The idea that anyone watching would be attracted to the Patriot Blue characters is dubious at best. Their leader is fat, impotent, and prone to boring everyone to death at barbeques by reading out “bush poetry”; his pious, Christian wife is equally boring and happy to cast aside her cherished values to sleep around behind her husband’s back. Meanwhile, the Antifa types are generic uni students, which is to say they’re smug, sneering, and heavily pierced. Whoever wins, we lose.

The trouble with dividing these groups into good guys and bad is that the world of Romper Stomper is one of all against all, a violent place where violence rules (it’s notable that the police barely make an appearance in the first two episodes, and their minor punishments are largely shrugged off). Just about every location here, from the streets to a nursing home to a television studio, is shown as a form of battleground where people struggle for dominance.

In this world, the real conflict isn’t between left and right wing activists; it’s between people who are happy to resort to violence and aggression to achieve their aims and those who aren’t. And in movies and television, this simply isn’t a fair fight. Violence is simply more dramatic, more exciting to watch; whatever our feelings about violence in real life, we’re almost always going to find ourselves more interested in watching the people who solve problems with their fists than those who want to talk things out (see also: every superhero movie ever).

So when a series tries to have it both ways – violence is bad; here’s some more violence – you end up with a muddled mess like Netflix’s current series The Punisher. There the lead is a mass-murderer driven to kill and kill again because of the death of his family… but don’t worry, he only kills bad guys and he's really, really torn up about it. The (far superior) comic version (especially when written by Garth Ennis) knows that the real way to add balance to this kind of character isn't some kind of moral waffling, but to show the monster you become when you fully embrace violence: pretending there’s ever a justifiable reason to gun down hundreds of criminals is ridiculous and treating your audience with contempt.

Initially the new Romper Stomper looks like it’s falling into the same trap, with a bunch of bad guys that have to be heroically fought against. And it’s possible this could end on a note of “why can’t we all just get along”, at least in a political sense. But the original film was all about the pure thrill of violence: it might be a dead end that will ruin your life and get you killed, but it’s fun while it lasts. And with this new Romper Stomper the thrill of violence remains – only where the film was all about the physical, this is much more about the emotional excitement of living a violent way of life, of finding meaning in your life from being in a gang and feeling like you’re in a life-and-death struggle, an all-important war where your very way of life is at stake.

Obviously it’s not: Romper Stomper portrays Patriot Blue as a bunch of easily manipulated blowhards living out a pathetic fantasy. But in the same way the film showed how easy it was to be lured into one kind of violent lifestyle, this is doing the same for another kind, showing us a range of people that, for different reasons, thrive on conflict and are willing to push things as far as they can to achieve their goals. Only this time, by showing us the people who suffer because they don't share this love of violence, it may also show us a way out.

 

- Anthony Morris

Review: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald

There are a lot of interesting things going on in Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald. It's just that none of them manage to turn it into an interesting movie. It's been pointed out by more than one reviewer that this is a bridging movie in the Fantastic Beasts series, a film that is mostly setting things up for what is to come. That's clearly true; it's just that it fails to provide a reason why anyone would want more of this incoherent wand-waving.

But we all know why we'll be back. The Harry Potter franchise has built up such massive reserves of goodwill that seemingly nothing - not social media turning on creator J.K. Rowling, not films that are nothing more than blatant cash-grabs, not continuing Harry Potter's story only as a massively expensive stage play - can dissuade the fans. The fact that about 80% of Harry Potter's appeal was that it was a fantasy version of an already romanticised version of high school and Crimes of Grindelwald is a nightmare tale of the worst kind of adulthood doesn't matter; throw in a few brightly coloured scarves and a wand or two and the fans will keep on coming back.

When you're a child in the world of Harry Potter, magic is a gateway to an amazing world full of endless surprises and delights. When you're an adult, you get three shit jobs to choose from - magic cop, magic teacher or magic bureaucrat - and your every waking moment is obsessed with politics involving extremist forces that are constantly gathering and demanding the overthrow of everything the old order stands for. Considering the old order mainly stands for those three crappy jobs, it's not hard to see the appeal of Magic Hitler and his generic cronies.

There's barely a story here. Grindelwald (Johnny Depp, remarkably restrained for late-period Depp and perhaps the best human thing in this film) escapes from magic prison while being transferred back to Europe, hides out in Paris, marshals his forces and eventually gives a rally that is a relatively reasonable and low-key political affair in the Age of Trump. That's one of this film's handful of interesting ideas: Magic Hitler is portrayed as a charismatic and reasonable fellow with a vision that is at least superficially attractive. It's a good thing he signs off on baby-killing in private otherwise it'd be hard to see why he was the bad guy at all.

Everyone from the first film is back plus more, but while they're all extremely busy sadly nothing they do has anything to do with what this film is really about, which is sorting everyone into two sides (well, three - not everyone makes it to the end credits) for the conflict that is to come. Dumbledore (Jude Law) pulls a few strings behind the scenes, but for a film where the only person who can stop Magic Hitler is a much-loved high school teacher this takes itself way too seriously across the board, from the plodding pace and murky colour palette to the collection of doomed relationships and Grindelwald's boringly reasonable evil. Shouldn't magic be more fun?

Previous Harry Potter films always had a good reason for non-fans to stop by and take a look; even the first Fantastic Beasts had a lot of, you know, fantastic beasts. But this is fan service pure and simple, aimed solely at those who'll get worked up by a "canon-breaking" shock twist, and even the brief hints that one of the subplots involving a young powerful wizard (Ezra Miller) searching for his missing past might be a twisted version of the story of one Harry Potter go nowhere. If you want to watch later movies in this series, you'll have to watch this one; beyond that, there's no reason to watch this.

- Anthony Morris

Review: Suspiria

Why remake Suspiria? The original is so distinctive and so successful - on its own terms; if you're a fan of storytelling logic, move along - the idea of doing it over to get it right seems foolish at best and arrogant at worst. So Italian director Luca Guadagnino (Call Me By Your Name) turns the original on its head: gone are the garish colours, garbled plot and throbbing sense of mystery, replaced by..., well, let's put it this way: if you're interested in office politics within a coven of witches living in a dreary 70s office block, then this is the horror film for you.

 

If that sounds a bit harsh, well... fair call. This is clearly striving for a different effect than the original, and to do so it needs to use different methods to achieve its goals. There's still a Berlin dance academy, only now the 70s setting is highlighted as the divided city is rocked by the fallout from the Baader-Meinhof Gang. The dour nature of the city is well evoked; these are people living in an oppressive place and time.

 

There are also witches, though the mystery that usually goes with them is out, replaced by the aforementioned office politics as Madame Blanc (Tilda Swinton) fails to take over from her decaying one-time mentor. That means the continuation of the coven's plan to find a young woman for their sinister scheme - which, if you've been watching pretty much any film about witches or covens over the last three decades will come as no surprise at all (it's basically the same scheme as in Hereditary from earlier this year).

Enter Dakota Johnson's all-American farm girl, driven to cross the ocean by a burning desire to dance for Madame Blanc and the talent to go with it. Soon she's risen to the top, in large part because everyone in her way has either gone insane or (in one case) been crushed by unseen forces in what is easily the most disturbing scene in this film. A link is firmly established: whenever someone steps onto a dance floor, the tension rapidly becomes unbearable.

Unfortunately, off the dance floor the tension barely registers. The original isn't really about all that much but it doesn't really matter because it has style and suspense and sometimes - especially in a horror film - that's enough. Here though, while this definitely has style and occasionally there's tension, the fact that it's not really about all that much is much more obvious. None of these people are real, the situation they are in isn't real, and aside from some obvious analogies this isn't about anything that relates to the real world. 

 

Horror movies can get away with that because they're machines built to scare an audience. This Suspiria though, for all its horror elements and meat hooks and sinister goings-on, never really shows much interest in actually being scary. Without that, it runs out of steam well before an extended and extremely bloody climax that feels more like a shrug than an ultimate expression of terror.

 

Guadagnino's previous films have succeeded in large part because he's a director interested in the minutia of people's lives, the way small details accumulate to create devastating moments. But here the small moments just don't connect to the big events, because this isn't a story about human beings living in a world of human rules and behaviour.  

 

It's no surprise then that the one scene that does really work - where one woman's dancing somehow batters and crushes another woman - is built around the idea of there being an invisible, mysterious yet concrete connection between them. Linking people is what Guadadnino does best: he doesn't do it anywhere near enough here.

- Anthony Morris

 

 

Review: Fahrenheit 11/9

Michael Moore has dropped off the radar in recent years – despite being one of the few left-wing pundits to accurately predict a President Trump – so this documentary has been pitched as his return to the big stage covering the big issues. Which he does: unfortunately he can’t quite figure out how to make an actual movie out of them.

Instead, this is a jumbled collection of various talking points that’s really good at reminding you of what left-wing social media in the USA was outraged about six months ago. That’s not to say it’s solely of use as a historical document, as there actually is a decent film (or television feature) buried under Moore’s mea culpa’s for hanging out with right-wing types for laughs years ago and trips around the US checking in with various fired-up political candidates and school shooting survivors.

Unsurprisingly, this better, buried film kicks in when Moore returns to his home town of Flint, where thanks to political corruption and greed, the drinking water has been toxic for years now with no end in sight. Moore’s anger (mostly at the crooked Republican governor, but also Obama) is genuine, and a reminder that Moore’s best work comes from the heart.

That’s not to say everything else here isn’t heartfelt, just that the anger motivating it is a couple steps removed from what we’re shown. Moore is appalled that Trump was elected and at what his election has stirred up, but his look at what people are doing in response comes across more as a checklist of ways to take action than a story he’s burning to tell.

Moore’s relatively low profile in recent years comes in part because he’s no longer needed: if you want to get angry about the state of the world, social media is a much faster route than sitting down to watch a feature-length documentary. It’s only when he brings something more to the story that this really works as more than just a reminder that there are people – a lot of people – out there pushing back against Trump.

And so we go back to Flint, which Moore does a decent job of linking to America’s wider plight: if this kind of Republican-led corruption can happen here, he says, what hope for America under Trump? But it’s the scale of the awful, avoidable tragedy that lingers. These scenes shine; the rest of the film is a muddle.

- Anthony Morris