A World of Kino 35 | Dune, Venom, Rashomon, Joker & more

Two new films came out this week: Venom 2 and Dune. One of these is utter trash, and the other is a near masterpiece; can you guess which is which?

The first new release I will be reviewing today is none other than Venom 2, which incidently is the only film this week that I thought was unequivocally bad.

After finding a host body in investigative reporter Eddie Brock, the alien symbiote must face a new enemy, Carnage, the alter ego of serial killer Cletus Kasady.

The first film was largely just mediocre; terrible, but vaguely entertaining. I obviously didn’t have high hopes for this, but seeing Andy Serkis as the director working alongside my favourite cinematographer Robert Richardson did still make me want to catch Venom 2 in the cinema. At the very least, I was rather expecting this film to be stupid fun like the first film. But no, the writing is somehow even more appalling, the performances even more embarrassing, and the plot even more creatively bankrupt. Every single scene just made me want to curl up into a ball to hide away from all the cringe, so instead of being a so-bad-it’s-good movie like I was vaguely hoping for, it goes all the way into so-bad-just-kill-me territory. Woody Harrelson is basically just playing a simultaneously spiced up and absurdly diluted version of his character from Natural Born Killers, which is funny since that’s another film that butchered Robert Richardson’s divine cinematography. Both of them truly deserve better than this garbage.

An old Western movie now that you probably haven’t heard of, in the form of Duel in the Sun.

Pearl Chavez becomes the ward of her dead father’s first love and finds herself torn between her sons, one good and the other bad.

The melodrama is so hilariously over the top, and yet it’s that grandiosity that makes this film strangely endearing. It’s a pretty good cast – as always I love Joseph Cotten the most – yet while Jennifer Jones gives a good performance, her character is so laughably stupid, which somehow translates into an amazing final showdown. The highlight, however, is undoubtedly King Vidor’s eye for crafting gorgeous shots. The Western is naturally home to beautiful scenery, but this cinematography has a special way of capturing the sunset infused desert in a way I haven’t quite seen before. So while the narrative is a bit messy and the characters are frustratingly mercurial, I have to say I liked this film, if only because it’s crafted so well.

A double bill now for the first two Frankenstein movies.

Dr. Henry Frankenstein attempts to create life by assembling a creature from body parts of the deceased. Frankenstein succeeds in animating his monster, but confused and traumatized, it escapes into the countryside and begins to wreak havoc. Frankenstein searches for the elusive being, and eventually must confront his tormented creation.

I loved the first 30 or so minutes, as the build-up to creating the monster is so wonderfully atmospheric. Unfortunately, the plot slows down considerably once the monster is created, with Frankenstein’s realisation he made a mistake being a bit naff. Even so, once the monster regains conciousness and goes on his journey of self-discovery and revenge, the energy picks back up again, returning to the incredible gothic cinematography that made the first half so gripping to watch. Also, the scene where the monster plays with the little girl is so wholesome – until that hilarious twist of course. I do prefer Kenneth Branagh’s bombastic version though, as this one felt like it rushed the story a bit too much, but this is a well made adaptation all the same.

Moving on to Bride of Frankenstein, I have to ask: how on earth is this rated so highly and above the original? I find it seriously baffling that people gush over it like it’s some deeply philosophical masterpiece, when in reality it’s just a silly monster movie like its predecessor only far more boring. I adored the scene with the blind man – I truly thought that was going to be the moment where the quality would ramp up – but most scenes were either wholly disinteresting or extremely annoying (the worst offender no doubt being that insufferable screeching woman). Not to mention how the titular Bride of Frankenstein doesn’t even make an appearance until the FINAL THREE MINUTES, with the rest being filled up with character growth for The Monster that – while admittedly endearing – would have been far more welcomed in the first film. Even the visuals feel markedly worse here, so I couldn’t even rely on the gothic aesthetic to pull up the poor writing of this disappointing sequel.

Two of my favourite types of media are: Korean action dramas, and time travel shenanigans. Sisyphus pairs both together to create a show that is slow and convoluted, yet engrossing and heartbreaking. 

An unfathomable incident introduces a genius engineer to dangerous secrets of the world — and to a woman from the future who’s come looking for him.

The immediate comparison I think I can make is to Dark, as both of these series jump straight into the deep end of never-ending paradoxes and stubborn characters creating the very thing they thought they were preventing. Dark definitely takes the more philosophical route while Sisyphus sticks to a guns blazing attitude, but both explore the enigma of time travel just as well as each other: that is to say, neither makes any bloody sense. And I don’t mean in the sense that I was confused; on the contrary, I understand the stories of both perfectly fine. It’s just that all the plotting is literally nonsensical because of a fundamental misunderstanding of time travel. For a contrivance-free time travel story, you need to stick entirely to either hard determinism or free will. But Dark and Sisyphus try to do both at the same time, and while it means they can craft great drama and wildly imaginative stories, it results in a broken, nonsensical plot relying wholly on the silly contrivances that are paradoxes. I swear to God, if I see another show or film having characters disappearing for no reason when they change the past…

Ok, rant over, because while this problem is most pronounced in the final episode – and, as such, creates an ending that isn’t exactly satisfying – the rest of the series is extremely enjoyable. Well, the pacing is horrendous, the CGI is seriously rough, and it has some of the worst editing I’ve ever seen, alongside a plot that, as I’ve said, is fundamentally broken. But the concepts are always fun to see play out and the performances are so fantastic, that I’m willing to look past my gripes with the narrative in favour of the great character drama. After all, I binged the first 7 episodes in one sitting, so although I wish it had remained of consistently high quality throughout, I do still recommend checking this series out, as its strongest moments were definitely when it was just being a K-drama.

After that review of the show I’ve just finished to mark the halfway point of the episode, we have arrived at the films that I personally think are great with nary a flaw. First up is Papillon.

Convicted murderer Henri Charriere, known as “Papillon” for his butterfly chest tattoo, is transported to French Guiana to serve his sentence in a work camp. Determined to escape, Papillon forms an unlikely relationship with the frail but notorious forger Louis Dega, who reluctantly joins in the attempt. Despite the harshness of solitary confinement, brutal conditions and constant threats of betrayal, Papillon leads a desperate escape off the island.

Papillon is pretty similar to The Great Escape – the guy obsessed with escaping is, after all, played by Steve McQueen in both films – only this is far more brutal and beautiful. Schaffner crafts a harrowing epic of survival in the harshest conditions and the friendships forged therein, with freedom never tasting sweeter no matter how brief it might be. All of which is presented with the breathtaking cinematography of Carribbean paradise to juxtapose against the nauseating filth and darkness of horrid confinement, with Steve McQueen at the centre of all of it giving what has to be his absolute best performance. Oh, plus it features Jerry Goldsmith composing yet another incredible score? Simply gorgeous! 

Moving on now to a film that for some inexplicable reason is considered controversial, I present to you Joker.

During the 1980s, a failed stand-up comedian is driven insane and turns to a life of crime and chaos in Gotham City while becoming an infamous psychopathic crime figure.

My God, it’s amazing just how superb Joaquin Phoenix is in this role. Such a visceral display of pain and torment, laughing through his agony and dancing through his lonely euphoria with his mesmerisingly carefree abandon. I was seriously worried the magic of this horrifying film would have dissipitated after not seeing it since it was in cinemas, but while the novelty might have worn off, the majesty of Phoenix’s transformation and the eternally beautiful drone of Guðnadóttir’s cello lead the film into a catastrophe that continues to wholly immerse me. 

Now, I really couldn’t care less about all the political nonsense surrounding this film – on either aisle – because fundamentally this is just an impeccably directed and acted tragedy of a broken individual lost in a broken society (haha I said the word). And yes yes, I know that Joker is very similar to Taxi Driver, King of Comedy and even You Were Never Really Here – the latter of which likewise has Phoenix pouring his heart and soul into the lead role. But so what? I seriously find it baffling that people think this is valid criticism, as though revamping such narratives is derogatory to the classics it borrows from. Just because they all follow the same themes – and the references admittedly get a little on the nose – doesn’t detract in the slightest from just how well Todd Phillips repurposes them for his own take on this sick world. Joker isn’t an original film by any means, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t superbly made all the same.

The first time I watched this I was rather underwhelmed. Coming off the back of Seven Samurai, The Hidden Fortress and Yojimbo, I didn’t find the minute scale of this film all that appealing. But on this rewatch, I was fully on board with Rashomon‘s special kind of storytelling.

Brimming with action while incisively examining the nature of truth, “Rashomon” is perhaps the finest film ever to investigate the philosophy of justice. Through an ingenious use of camera and flashbacks, Kurosawa reveals the complexities of human nature as four people recount different versions of the story of a man’s murder of his wife.

It’s incredible just how well Kurosawa builds up anticipation for the mystery, with a heavenly curtain of rain enveloping a woodcutter and a priest as they mutter ominously of the horror they have witnessed. Then – much to the prodding of the stranger who is out of the loop – the narrative transitions into a leisurely walk through the woods, the pristine nature completely at odds with the hellish tone the world will soon appropriate; ramping in tension as the woodcutter discovers strange clues, until he arrives at his shocking discovery of a murder. From then on, four different spins on the events that transpired become intertwined like manipulative snakes, each one overlapping with the other to create a hopelessly confusing spiral. Every single side of the story is wholly believable – somehow, even the dead man’s story feels like the truth! – because although they directly contradict each other, what they so masterfully reveal about each character allows the lies exhibited so candidly to click the mystery into place. 

I only wish that there hadn’t been so much overacting, because the constant manic outbursts – especially from Mifune – were extremely annoying. It’s doubly frustrating when the performances are so damn good in those gracious few moments where the overflowing emotions become repressed. Nevertheless, while it could certainly have toned down the screeching characters a notch, Rashomon is still most definitely the masterpiece it has been hyped up to be.

Who knew it was possible a film could actually make me sympathise with royalty? Well, the film that accomplished that impossible task for me is… The King’s Speech.

After his brother abdicates, George reluctantly assumes the throne. Plagued by a dreaded stutter and considered unfit to be king, George engages the help of an unorthodox speech therapist. Through a set of unexpected techniques, and as a result of an unlikely friendship, King George VI is able to find his voice and boldly lead the country into war.

The King’s Speech does a fantastic job at bringing the regalness down to earth in a manner that is unafraid to lay it all bare yet still managing to feel respectful. I thought I would feel detached from King George’s troubles, so I’m impressed at how well this film humanised his efforts to overcome his speech impediment, as shockingly enough I didn’t find his stammers laughable. Colin Firth most certainly deserved that Oscar – hell, I’d even argue that this film deserved winning Best Picture even over the fan favourite The Social Network – as it’s incredible just how well he delivers all the pent up anger and emotional trauma sizzling beneath the surface of his stiff upper lip. I knew going in that I would be treated to a phenomenal performance by Colin Firth, but while he was indeed stupendous, it’s Geoffrey Rush who I personally feel to have been even more perfect. He was definitely the most entertaining, which I suppose is why the scenes between the two of them is so much fun to watch. But in all honesty, the entire cast is great, complimenting a brilliantly written screenplay that – while perhaps Oscar baity – simply made for a consistently enjoyable experience. Everything is so well directed and so well brought to life by the actors and production designers, so that the stellar soundtrack and surprisingly gorgeous cinematography from Danny Cohen is only the icing on the cake of this fantastic film.

For my final film of the week, I give you a very special film indeed – the one and only Dune.

Paul Atreides, a brilliant and gifted young man born into a great destiny beyond his understanding, must travel to the most dangerous planet in the universe to ensure the future of his family and his people. As malevolent forces explode into conflict over the planet’s exclusive supply of the most precious resource in existence – a commodity capable of unlocking humanity’s greatest potential – only those who can conquer their fear will survive.

Going in, I doubt you could have found anybody more cynical than me, as for months I’ve been anxious about Dune‘s release since the trailers made it look so bland. Thankfully, I stand corrected, because Dune is a cinematic marvel! From the rolling waves of Caladan turning into golden dunes on Arakis, to the suffocating slime of the Harkonnens juxtaposing against the swift-moving, sun-infused Fremen, Villeneuve builds these humongous, beautiful worlds populated by colourful people with so much intimate passion and breathtaking atmosphere. The technology is realised with such brilliant innovation and the characters carry the air of their status so effortlessly, that getting fully sucked in by the spectacle was a true blessing. And the sandworms; my God, those beasts are gorgeous! In all honesty, Villeneuve could not have brought the imagination of Dune into the cinematic experience anymore perfectly, so I hope with all my heart this film is successful because I desperately want to spend even more time inside this universe Villeneuve has crafted so masterfully.

With that said, I do unfortunately have some problems with the film that are glaring enough not to be able to ignore entirely. Because quite frankly, the screenplay is not on par with the production design, which only confirms my disillusionment with Blade Runner 2049, as Villeneuve proved with that film that his sheer mastery of epic-scale visual spectacle is so effective at mesmerising the audience, that the failings of the writing get easily forgiven. The characters, while well performed (I think Chalamet makes for a great Paul Atredes) are rather shallow, since they only fulfill their archetype to push the plot, but I never got a proper feeling of them as people because everybody feels far too cold – in spite of the tonally jarring attempt to inject some out of place banter. There is also far too much ‘tell not show’ happening here: especially in regards to spice. I appreciate how the galactic politics is far too extensive to be properly fleshed out in a mere 2.5 hours, but spice is the quintessential reason for the conflict of this story, and yet never are we explicitly shown why it’s so important. The most aggregious missed opportunity is how Villeneuve never takes the time to explore interplanetary travel (and why spice is needed for that) instead just cutting straight to the landing on Arakis. It just fundamentally undermines the premise and cheapens the grandiosity, which makes the events feel rather superficial. 

Ironically enough, Dune feels rushed, which sounds weird because the final product will be around 5 hours long. An extra hour would have probably fixed these problems for me though, as the foundations for an exquisitely complex film are all there; I just think it’s a shame Villeneuve didn’t go quite as far as he could have done. Even so, I think that it’s pretty telling what a monumental achievement this film is that my biggest gripe with this long film is it wasn’t even longer – so I look forward to a 4 hour director’s cut to sink my teeth into. Only time will tell if this was a worthy endeavour, as it’s both infuriating how it just stops halfway through the story, and exciting how the best is yet to come.