Richard and CP24 anchor Jamie Gutfreund have a look at the weekend’s new movies, “Get Out,” the most original horror film to come down the road in some time, the melodramatic romance “A United Kingdom,” the zombie flick “The Girl with All the Gifts,” and the documentaries “I Am Not Your Negro” and “Dying Laughing. They also do some Oscar predictions!
Watch the whole thing HERE!
There are as many kinds of cinematic zombies as there are zombie movies. From George A. Romero’s lumbering brain eaters and the fast-moving fleshbags of 28 Days Later to the undead hordes of World War Z and The Crazies’ sentient creepers, the only thing that binds them is an voracious urge to eat their living counterparts and, these days, an almost unrivalled popularity with horror fans.
It seems when the world is in turmoil people turn to zombies as an outlet for their apocalyptic anxieties. A new British film, The Girl With All the Gifts, borrows from Romero, 28 Days Later and even from The Walking Dead and yet its mix of social commentary, zippy zombies and exploding skulls doesn’t feel like a re-tread.
“The zombie metaphor is humanity eating itself,” says star Gemma Arterton. “This film extends that because it gives zombies, or hungries as we call them, intelligence, empathy, love and the ability to fend for themselves in a more developed way.
“I think we are in a period of time right now where there is major despair out there about what is happening. This film is poignant now, coming out now post Brexit. It feels quite relevant.”
Arterton plays Helen Justineau, teacher of a group of children infected by a zombifying disease but still capable of advanced thought. In the search for a cure these kids are studied at a remote English army base.
Helen has bonded with one remarkable child, Melanie (Sennia Nanua), a youngster as lethal as the others but possessed of superior intelligence and charm. When the base is overrun by “hungries” Helen, Melanie and two others escape but not before the child shows her true colours.
“I did something bad,” she says. “I ate bits of the soldiers.” With the help of the world-weary Sgt. Eddie Parks (Paddy Considine) they make their way to London.
“If you talk to Mike Carey who wrote the book and the screenplay,” says Arterton, who broke out as an MI6 field agent in 2008’s Bond hit Quantum of Solace, “you’ll find he’s not only a great raconteur but he really knows what’s going on with science and politics and he mixes the two together. It is such interesting conversation. He’s obviously a big geek but in a really factual way.”
A case in point, Arterton says, is the virus that lies at the centre of the film.
“The disease, the fungal infection is actually something that exists. There is a colony of ants in South America that have Ophiocordyceps unilateralis,” she explains, diving into the science. “It’s a fungal infection that infects them from the inside and then they sprout and turn into a different type of ant. Then those ants will eat the other ants to survive.
“These things happen in nature. Nature is such a strong force. I love that in this film you can see nature taking back the planet.
“We actually used some shots from Chornobyl as the London skyline because
Chornobyl is this abandoned city that is completely overgrown now. We might die, but nature will be fine. The world is going to keep going without us.”
Helmed by Scottish director Colm McCarthy in his first feature-length production, The Girl with All the Gifts asks difficult questions about the price of survival, capping off the story with chilling words that may — or may not — alleviate lingering zombie phobia.
“It’s not all over,” says Melanie, “it’s just not yours anymore.”
Just when you think the zombie genre has run out of ideas along comes “The Girl with All the Gifts,” a British thriller that puts a fresh spin on the putrid genre.
When the story begins all is calm. Well, as calm as the dystopian future can ever be. A fungal disease called Ophiocordyceps unilateralis has devastated the planet, leaving those affected without free will but with a taste for blood. These “hungries” are set to take over unless something can be done. Enter a group of children infected by the disease but capable of advanced thought. In the search for a cure these children are studied at a remote English army base run by Dr. Caroline Caldwell (Glenn Close). The children are shackled to chairs, forced to wear face masks and have no skin to skin contact with the doctors, teachers or soldiers who look after them. Despite their small sizes everyone regards them as dangerous, hungry creatures—after all they did eat their way out of their wombs!—except teacher Helen Justineau (Gemma Arterton). She reads them stories and has bonded with one remarkable child, Melanie (Sennia Nanua). The youngster is as lethal as the others but is possessed of superior intelligence and charm.
When the base is overrun by “hungries” Dr. Caldwell, Helen and Melanie escape but not before the child shows her true colours. “I did something bad,” she says. “I ate bits of the soldiers.” With the help of the world-weary Sgt. Eddie Parks (Paddy Considine) they make their way to London.
“Our mission statement is to gather data,” says the good doctor.
“It was until the fence went down,” grunts Eddie. “Now our mission statement is to keep ourselves off the menu.”
“The Girl With All the Gifts” borrows from George A. Romero, Danny Boyle and even from “The Walking Dead” and yet its mix of social commentary, zippy zombies and exploding skulls doesn’t feel like a re-tread.
The addition of a child, deadly though she may be, brings empathy to a world so often devoid of compassion. It also opens up some opportunities for dark humour—“Don’t play with anybody who looks dead,” Melanie is warned—that come as a welcome break from the bleakness of many dystopian zombie-fests. As Melanie, Nanua is tremendous, bringing some real humanity to a character who lives on the fringes of humanity.
“The Girl with All the Gifts” is not as outright scary as “28 Days Later” or “Night of the Living Dead,” but it is unsettling. Deliberately paced, it slowly builds to a climax that asks difficult questions about the price of survival, capping it with the chilling words, (MILD SPOILER) “It’s not all over, it’s just not yours anymore.”
Jerry Hickfang is an animal over and like many animal lovers he talks to his pets, his dog Bosco and cat, Mr. Whiskers. Trouble is, they talk back.
Ryan Reynolds is the wholesome looking Jerry, a worker at the Milton Bathtub Factory. He’s young, good-looking and eager to please at work. He also has a crush on Fiona (Gemma Arterton), the cute accountant in the office upstairs. They make a date, she stands him up and soon we learn that Jerry has some serious mental problems and an aversion to taking his meds. More likely to listen to the ramblings of Bosco and Mr. Whiskers than his therapist (Jacki Weaver), the bodies start to pile up as Jerry grapples with the voices that tell him to do terrible things.
Kitschy, strange and decidedly off kilter, “The Voices” takes a one joke premise—a guy’s pets are the angel and devil perched on his shoulder—and wrings it dry. There are some funny moments—witness Bosco and Mr. Whiskers getting turned-on while watching a National Geographic (emphasis on the “graphic”) animal special on TV—but mostly the movie revolves around Reynolds’s winning performance.
He’s a likeable actor using his likeability to emphasize the darkness that is slowly enveloping Jerry. It’s a good, brave performance that is the bridge between the horror and comedy elements of the story.
In many ways “The Voices” defines quirky indie cinema, but when the color palette changes from Day-Glo pink in the early scenes to dark colours—both physiologically and physically—in the later scenes, the movie deepens. It’s still shocking right through to the end, but the shudders are tempered with insightful comments on the human condition, and surprisingly, a dance number.
“It’s the gambling business in Costa Rica,” says internet gaming mogul Ivan Block in “Runner, Runner,” “sometimes you get punched in the face.”
And sometimes moviegoers get slapped in the face by a really bad movie.
Justin Timberlake is Richie Furst, a Princeton student who works for an on line gambling site called Midnight Black. He earns a commission every time he signs up one of his fancy-pants classmates, but when the Dean’s Office discovers what he’s up to they call his bluff: Quit Midnight Black or quit Princeton.
He opts to stop recruiting for the site, but short on tuition money, pulls an all-nighter on line, hoping to earn enough to cover his expenses. Up $50,000 it looks like his plan is working until he is cheated out of his winnings and left with nothing.
Eager to confront the site’s main man Ivan Block (Ben Affleck) he travels to Costa Rica. Block, impressed with the young man’s spirit ups the ante, offering him a job. Soon Richie is Ivan’s protégé but with the position comes some wanted attention from Block’s ex-girlfriend Rebecca (Gemma Arterton) and unwanted attention from the FBI (Anthony Mackie).
“Runner, Runner” is a thriller without any thrills, a movie about cheating at gambling that feels like a cheat. It’s the kind of film where characters say things like, “Do you know how crazy this is?” to remind the audience that what they’re watching is interesting. Or, at least, is supposed to be.
From stilted narration and dialogue—“This isn’t poker,” sez Richie, “this is my life and I have one play left. Put all the chips in!”—to characters with all the depth of a lunch tray to a by-the-numbers story, “Runner, Runner” is one of the worst movies to escape… er… get released this year.
It could have been something. Director Brad Furman’s last film, “The Lincoln Lawyer,” was an elegant thriller with interesting performances and some tension, none of which is present in his latest film.
It’s too bad, because the components are all there, they are simply let down by a derivative script by Brian Koppelman & David Levien that is unconcerned with logic, realism or creating interesting characters.
It’s too bad because the actors struggle to bring something to the table, but for someone who drips charisma onstage J.T. is bland as rice pudding here and Arterton is given little to do but bat her eyelashes.
Affleck seems to be having fun as the villain—he even has man eating reptiles!—and has the prerequisite steely-eyed glare down pat but he’s not exactly menacing. He underplays the part and yet because his dialogue is so overwritten he actually adds some unintentional humor to a movie that takes itself too seriously.
“Runner, Runner” is a slickly made but dull movie.
My advice? Runner, runner in the other direction.
Many fairy tales end with the line, “and they lived happily ever after,” but have you ever wondered exactly what that means? What happens after the happily ever after?
Does Cinderella grow up to blow her inheritance on Jimmy Choo glass slippers? Did Sleeping Beauty find a second career as an expert in sleep disorders?
A new take on the classic fairy tale suggests what the future might have held for two famous fairyland siblings.
The backstory of “Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters” is familiar. Dumped in the forest by their father, little Hansel and sister Gretel stumble across a welcoming looking gingerbread house. Inside, however, waits a cannibalistic witch with plans to lure them in and have them for dinner—literally. Luckily the clever duo outsmart, outwit and outplay her.
So far it sounds like the story Mrs. Rice read to us in kindergarten.
But here is where the fairy tale fractures. After the happily ever after of the original Hansel (Jeremy Renner) and Gretel (Gemma Arterton) become bounty hunters specializing in the tracking and extermination of witches. Immune to witch spells and curses, they are uniquely qualified for the job, but as the human sacrifice of the deadly Blood Moon approaches, Hansel and Gretel learn why their father abandoned them in the forest so many years ago.
If you watch the opening credits carefully you’ll notice the names Will Ferrell and Adam McKay—the team behind comedies like the upcoming “Bachelorette”—listed as producers. “Could this possibly be a comedy?,” you might ask. Well, no. It’s more a funny idea than a funny movie. There are some hints of humor sprinkled throughout, but it can’t rightfully be called a comedy. Or a horror movie. Or an action movie.
In fact, I’m not exactly sure what to call it. It contains elements of all those things and yet it doesn’t really work at being any of them. Sure, there is a cool looking troll named Edward, a giggle or two and some raucous fight scenes, but unlike “Zombieland,” which took a genre film and subverted it into something else entirely, “Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters” doesn’t really work.
Renner and Arterton are serviceable as seventeenth Bavarian bounty hunters who speak like they have there own A&E reality show. “The only good witch is a dead witch,” says Hansel in a line that feels paraphrased from the lips of the most famous bounty hunter of all, Duane “Dog” Chapman. All that’s missing is his ridiculous bleached hair and a can of mace.
“Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters” is set up for a sequel, but somehow I doubt this will spawn a franchise. Now “Little Bo Peep: The Modern Prometheus,” that’s a story I’d pay to see for a movie or two.
Über producer Jerry Bruckheimer draws his inspiration from many places. He makes movies based on video games, amusement park rides, and toys. One day perhaps he’ll make one based on a bed spring, and you know what? It’ll be successful. The guy is genetically programmed to make movies that make money. His latest blockbuster-in-the-waiting is “The Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time,” the action-adventure that hopes to make Jake Gyllenhaal (and his finely sculpted abs) the next Steve Reeves.
Based on the video game, the action packed story starts when Dastan is still a parkour practicing preteen peasant who out smarts the king’s guards and earns himself a spot in the royal household. Cut to many years later. Dastan is now a full grown man who looks a lot like “Brokeback Mountain” star Jake Gyllenhaal. He’s a bit on the wild side, but when he uses ancient firebombing techniques and slo mo to defeat enemy forces his reward is to be treated like a traitor and sent into exile. With the help of Princess Tamina (Gemma Arterton) and a crafty ostrich jockey (Alfred Molina) he might be able to prove his innocence and prevent the mystical Dagger of Time—releasing sand from the hilt of the knife turns back time and turns Dastan into a cool looking special effect—from falling into the wrong hands. Along the way there are double crosses, much videogame action and, of course, a love match. That Princess Tamina. Jake just can’t quit her.
This is the movie I’m sure Gyllenhaal’s management hopes does for him what “Pirates of the Caribbean” did for Johnny Depp, that is, get Bruckheimerized. Like he did for Will Smith, Nic Cage and Depp, all actors best known for doing risky character parts, Bruckheimer’s magic may turn him into household (although still difficult to spell) name. Will it work? Probably. Maybe. Who knows? Gyllenhaal is already a respected actor, and does what he can to emerge from this sword and sandal showdown with as much dignity intact as possible, but the movie and his character don’t have the same kind of verve that, say, Johnny Depp showed in the first “PotC.” Dastan is a big action role but aside from the odd emotional moment Gyllenhaal never really makes the role his own, in the way that Depp made Captain Jack Sparrow into a character that sold Halloween costumes and inspired the guy at the desk next to yours to do bad pirate impressions for weeks after seeing the movie. Savvy?
What it does have is lots of action. The camera NEVER stops moving and when “Prince of Persia”—the character and the movie—is flip, flop and flying it is campy good fun. Gyllenhaal is literally crawling the walls in a display of physical prowess (and some pretty cool parkour) that’ll make your eyeballs dance, but when the story goes into the Sands of Time Mythology ™, or should that be mumbi jumbo, it’ll make your previously watusi-ing eyeballs glaze over. The crazy time shifting folklore and hopelessly silly solution to the sands situation slows the movie down to a shuffle and is only saved by Sir Ben Kingsley’s eye-rolling pantomime.
“The Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time” is typical Bruckheimer bombast. It’s a huge movie with big battle scenes, a love story, a few laughs (some intentional, some not) and even a flock of ostriches. It has everything you want from a summer blockbuster except really memorable characters or a noteworthy story.
This big screen adaptation of the Guardian comic strip Tamara Drewe sees director Stephen Frears return to the social satire of early work.
When Tamara Drewe (Gemma Arterton), once a shy and homely teen in the Dorset village of Ewedown, now a bombshell big city columnist, returns home to clear up her late mother’s estate, she instead turns the small town on its ear. An affair with a rock star (Dominic Cooper) earns the ire of his teenage fans while a hunky old flame (Luke Evans) tries to rekindle their teenage romance. The resulting entanglements—and more romantic intrigue from a philandering crime novelist—shine a light on the personal politics of nosy neighbors and gossip. In the end, however, it is also about leaving all the chitchat behind and getting on with your life.
“Tamara Drewe” is an amusing distraction with some winning performances—particularly from Arterton who makes the selfish Tamara likeable and Roger Allam as an arrogant novelist—but doesn’t pack the punch of some of Frears’s other films like “Dirty Pretty Things” and “My Beautiful Launderette.” It is, however, well cast and eager to please with a sharp, literate script.
Three characters, three, maybe four sets and one hundred minutes of unrelenting tension. That’s the best way to describe “The Disappearance of Alice Creed,” the feature film debut from British director J Blakeson. It’s a small, low budget thriller, but nonetheless is as thrilling as any movie we’ve seen this summer.
The risk with reviewing “The Disappearance of Alice Creed” is in giving you enough detail to whet your appetite but not enough to spoil the movie’s many unexpected twists and turns. I can tell you that Alice Creed (Gemma Arterton) is a woman kidnapped by ex-cons Vic and Danny (Eddie Marsan and Martin Compston) because her father is wealthy, she’s an only child and she’s, quote, slim enough to carry, unquote. After following a meticulously planned abduction they demand a ransom of two million pounds while Alice is trussed up in a soundproof room. Enter complications. End of synopsis.
Like “Shallow Grave,” another English suspense with more twists and turns than Piccadilly Circus, “The Disappearance of Alice Creed” in addition to the tightly written script, uses music and clever editing to create an atmosphere thick with tension. Its taut construction and claustrophobic feel are typical for the genre, but director Blakeson steps outside the conventions of kidnapping movies to add in elements that are truly surprising. For instance, and this isn’t a spoiler, when a stray shell casing can become the catalyst for not only humor but anxiety you know the movie is connecting. On the surface it feels like a 70s exploitation flick—the kind of thing Quentin Tarantino would rescue from drive-in obscurity to release on DVD—but there is much more here than schlock.
Beneath the movie’s sheen of tension and brutality is a story about how complicated kidnapping can turn out to be when feelings become involved. It is a psychological drama about trust, power and what happens when you deviate from the plan.
As the puffy-eyed Alice, Gemma Arterton proves there is more to her than just the pretty face we’ve seen in “The Prince of Persia,” “Quantum of Solace” and “Clash of the Titans.” Despite spending most of the film in chains with a bag over her head she manages, by times, to convincingly convey vulnerability, genuine fear and strength. It’s a complicated role that sees her go through a lot, both mentally and physically, and she pulls it off.
Equally strong are Eddie Marsan and Martin Compston as the kidnappers. Marsan’s Vic is an intriguing bad guy—controlling, unpredictable but also mannered and meticulous. Best known as Scott, the angry driving instructor in “Happy-Go-Lucky,” his presence supplies much of the movie’s feeling of unease. Compston’s Danny seems like a more standard criminal type, but reveals unexpected deeper dimensions to the character when the twists start flying. Is he a callous opportunist or a victim of the domineering Vic?
“The Disappearance of Alice Creed” is a nasty little piece of work. It is remorselessly bleak but carefully crafted enough to be intriguing.
