It would be easy to think that the Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon movies are easy-breezy travelogues with pretty scenery and sumptuous looking food, but they are much more than that. The latest, “The Trip to Greece,” which comes to VOD this week, brings with it all the banter, impressions and eye-catching sights you expect from these movies, but beneath the veneer of laughs lies a story about mortality and legacy.
Ten years after took their first trip together Coogan and Brydon travel from Troy to Ithaca, following in the footsteps of the Odysseus. Under blue skies the pair sparkle, almost as much as the crystal-clear turquoise water that appears in virtually every shot of the movie. From quoting Aristotle’s Poetics and impersonating Dustin Hoffman, to loudly singing 70s Bee Gee tunes and visiting Epidaurus, one of the wonders of the ancient world, they present their patented brand of high-brow and pop cultural references, mixed together in a stew that is as appealing as much of the five star “Top Chef” style food we see them eat on their travels.
“The Trip to Greece” isn’t story-driven as much as it is a snapshot of two people at different places in their lives, brought together by friendship and, amusingly, one-upmanship. The movie works not because we’re waiting breathlessly for a twist or a turn, but because of the chemistry between the two. The stories are fictional—the pair play heightened versions of themselves—but the themes that lie just below their joking—jabs about aging, mortality, neediness and vanity—add depth to what could have been a travel show farce. A subplot about a death in Coogan’s family is unexpectedly touching and never overplayed.
They say “The Trip to Greece” will be the last of these excursions and that’s a shame. Director Michael Winterbottom expertly blends travel, food and heaps of personality into one package that celebrates their friendship while acknowledging that a quick get-a-way can’t solve all your problems at home.
Check out episode twelve of Richard’s new web series, “In Isolation With…” It’s the talk show where we make a connection without actually making contact! Today, broadcasting directly from Isolation Studios (a.k.a. my home office), we meet British comedian Rob Brydon Zooming in from England to talk about Al Pacino, whether he’s keen to fly on a plane again, meeting Michael Caine, and, of course, the fourth instalment of “The Trip” series, “The Trip to Greece” available this week on VOD. Come visit with us! In isolation we are united!
Watch the whole thing HERE on YouTube and HERE on ctvnews.ca!
The latest movie to mine the legacy of classic rock comes as a tribute to Bruce Springsteen. Based on a memoir by Sarfraz Manzoor, “Blinded by the Light,” joins “Rocketman,” “Yesterday” and “Bohemian Rhapsody” in dramatizing the power of music to change lives.
Viveik Kalra plays the British Pakistani Javed a.k.a. Jay, a 16-year-old aspiring writer with dreams of getting away from Luton, a town he describes as “a four letter word,” where he is an outsider, tormented by skinheads, and his strict father Malik (Kulvinder Ghir). “You can choose to be a doctor or a lawyer or an estate agent,” his father says, “so don’t say I don’t give you any freedom.”
Things improve when he heads out to a local sixth form college. There he meets a teacher (Hayley Atwell) who tells him, “Stop doubting, keep writing,” the politically aware anarchist Eliza (Nell Williams) and best friend Roops (Aaron Phagura). When Roops hands over cassettes of “Darkness on the Edge of Town” and Born in the USA” with the words, “Bruce is the direct line to all that is true in this s****y world,” it’s as if Jay has been struck by lightning. “It’s like Bruce knows everything I’ve ever felt, everything I’ve ever wanted,” he says.
As his obsession grows he begins dressing like his hero, speaking in Bruce quotes and papering his walls with Springsteen posters. His family thinks he’s gone bonkers. “Do you think this man sings for people like us,” asks his father, but the connection between Springsteen’s lyrics of working-class life and Jay’s existence are too powerful to ignore.
Directed by “Bend It Like Beckham’s” Gurinder Chadha “Blinded by the Light” is a coming of age story fueled by the invigorating power of music to change lives. Springsteen’s songs are specific in their American roots but universal in meaning. When Jay, sitting on the other side of the Atlantic, frustrated and unhappy, hears Bruce sing, “Man I’m just tired and bored with myself,” it hits home. It’s the epiphany moment when he realizes others feel the way he does. Call it “The Tao of Bruce” if you like, but the lyrics, set against the bleak backdrop of Thatcher’s England and the rise of the racist National Front, take on a meaning that resonates with Jay. It borders on corny and is earnest in the extreme but the earnestness is the movie’s strength, celebrating the virtues of the best of human values. “Bruce sings about not letting the hardness of the world stop you from letting the best of you slip away,” says Jays, with an acolyte’s devotion.
“Blinded by the Light” is a crowd-pleasing confection, sentimental and predictable, but bound together with the giddy feeling of first hearing music that speaks to you.
It’s hard to know exactly how to categorize “The Trip” movies. Since 2010 Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon have co-starred in a series of British television travel shows, later cut down to feature length movies for North America.
The first saw the dynamic duo do a restaurant tour of northern England, then came “The trip to Italy” where they followed in the footsteps of early 19th century English poets on the Grand Tour. This time around trade plates of pasta for pintxos and paella in “The trip to Spain.”
The films are semi-fictional ad libbed culinary road trip adventures that have become increasingly melancholy as the odometer clocks each passing mile. They aren’t documentaries nor are they Food Network style travel shows. They are funny, although the laughs are fewer and further a part in the new, but they also contain moments of profound despondency. Sometimes they seem to be little more than a showcase for Coogan and Brydon’s prodigious gifts of celebrity mimicry, other times they are pathos dipped examinations of aging.
The third course on their culinary trip sees these two—imagine an intellectual version of The Two Ronnies—sample the best of Spain’s New Traditional restaurants, take in the sights but they spend most of their time not appreciating the beautiful coastal scenery but hilariously poking fun at a who’s who of Hollywood, including Al Pacino, Sean Connery and Woody Allen.
Wedged between the jokes and Michael Caine impressions is Coogan’s dissatisfaction, both personal and professional. Contrasted with Brydon’s happy family life and career, Coogan’s fear of becoming last week’s news as he enters his fifties gives the film an edge the others haven’t had. That means “The Trip to Spain” isn’t nearly all-out funny as the others, but it does have more substance. The others weren’t exactly empty calories but this one feels weightier.
“The Trip to Spain” features much of the stuff fans expect—Brydon’s “small man in a box” voice makes an appearance and Coogan’s way with words gives us culinary descriptions like, “life affirming butter”—but director Michael Winterbottom is clearly in a Cervantes state of mind as he sets his Don Quixote and Sancho Panza off on a new Spanish adventure.
In polite society no one would dare ask a stranger about his or her father’s violent death, but celebrity culture is not polite society.
Over the years I’ve heard interviewers ask questions ranging from the innocuous — “What are you wearing?” — to the silly — “How do you keep your bum in such great shape?” — but rarely have I heard anything as unnecessarily meddling as the query aimed at Charlize Theron during a press conference I hosted several years ago.
A reporter asked the actress about seeing her mother shoot her abusive, alcoholic father dead when she was a teenager. But instead of breaking down Theron said, “I’m not talking about that,” with an icy finality that made everyone freeze.
I admired her for not over sharing, not spilling the intimate details of her life à la the Kardashian Klan. She’s careful what she says to the press, avoids scandal and damage controls the ones that inevitably pop up in every celeb’s life. For instance, recently she said, short and sweetly, “We both decided to separate,” when accused of “ghosting” on her romance with Sean Penn.
She understands some things should only be spoken about when and where she chooses and not at the behest of an aggressive reporter looking to dredge up painful memories for the sake of “good television.” Theron is media savvy so I was surprised a few weeks ago when she caused a media hurly burly with comments about the burden of being beautiful.
Chatting up her new film The Huntsman: Winter’s War with British GQ she said, “How many roles are out there for the gorgeous, BLEEPINGing, gown-wearing eight-foot model? When meaty roles come through, I’ve been in the room and pretty people get turned away first.”
She is a beautiful woman, that is as clear as the perfectly positioned nose on her face, but is she intimating that being beautiful has harmed her career?
Turns out she wasn’t, or so she claims. Alleging a misquote, she later apologized, saying that playing “deconstructed characters” appeals because, “how many characters really are there out there for a woman wearing a gown? You have to play real people.
The mea culpa was unnecessary. She works in a business where beauty is a commodity.
The problem with her earlier statement is that publicly acknowledging one’s own looks carries with it a hint of arrogance, a suggestion that winning the genetic lottery somehow makes you superior, but she simply said something others already have.
Keira Knightley claims she almost lost the role in Pride and Prejudice because the director thought she was too pretty and Jessica Biel says being Esquire’s 2005 Sexiest Woman cost her work.
Theron may have missed out on a job or two because of her looks, but it’s also an element of what made her a star.
That and talent, and just as you wouldn’t apologize for skin colour or having red hair or being tall or short, she doesn’t need to say sorry for being beautiful.
Once upon a time there was a movie called “Snow White and the Huntsman.” Starring Hollywood princesses Kristen Stewart and Charlize Theron, it was a dark reimagining of the classic story that played like the love child of the Brothers Grimm and “The Hobbit” with two compelling characters, warrior Snow White and the villainous Ravenna.
Another film was inevitable, but how do you make a sequel when KStew busy making art films and Ravenna didn’t make it to the end credits? Easy, you rehire Theron, play mix and match “Frozen” and “Game of Thrones” and hope for the best.
“The Huntsman: Winter’s War“ begins its confusing journey as a prequel. Ravenna (Theron) is alive and well, a Grand Guiginol vision of a fairy tale Queen. Despite her best efforts sister Freya (Emily Blunt) refuses to embrace their evil birthright, choosing instead to start a family. When tragedy strikes the formerly good-natured princess finds her wicked power, morphing into the Winter Queen, whose icy glare can freeze kingdoms. The only things missing are Olaf and a show tune or two.
In her frigid northern empire she raises a child army of orphans called the Huntsmen (even though they’re not all boys or men). Elsa’s… er… Freya’s warriors are forbidden to love. They must let it go. “In my kingdom there is one rule do not love,” she says. “It is in a sin I will not forgive.” When Eric (Chris Hemsworth) and Sara (Jessica Chastain) fall hard for one another and plan to elope, Freya goes to extraordinary and cruel lengths to ensure they live happily never after.
Cut to seven years later. The movie is now into sequel territory. Snow White (who is glimpsed only briefly) has defeated Ravenna and now needs Eric to locate the Magic Mirror and ensure it is never used for evil. Cue the goblins, a few hi ho hi ho’s provided by Nick Frost, Rob Brydon, Sheridan Smith and Alexandra Roach and more CGI than you can throw an enchanted mirror at.
I’m not sure what to call “The Huntsman: Winter’s War.“ It’s not a sequel or a prequel and yet it is both. Officially I suppose we’re supposed to call it a “sprequel”; I call it bloated, confusing and worst of all, dull. You would think that any movie featuring Emily Blunt riding a polar bear would be great fun but you’d be wrong. From the half hour of narration that opens the story to the cavalcade of CGI and bad accents—Hemsworth and Chastain easily beat Kevin Costner for worst-ever cinematic British Isles burrs—to sloppy storytelling, this is a grim, not Brothers Grimm tale.
Bad accent aside Hemsworth brings some swagger to the role of Eric, Chastain tries to keep a straight face and sidekicks Frost, Brydon, Smith and Roach create a badly needed sense of fun to the proceedings. Blunt isn’t given much to do, aside from her rather stunning entrance in the polar bear but Theron actually disappoints. In the first film she’s a hoot, a bundle of bad intentions gathered up in one pretty package. Here she’s not the same figure of malicious amusement but oddly disconnected and not nearly as much fun.
Over long “The Huntsman: Winter’s War“ drones on for almost two hours until the narrator (Liam Neeson) reappears. As his dulcet tones close the movie with something to the effect of the story may be over “but fairy talks never end,” it doesn’t seem so much like an ending as it does a threat that they might make a sequel to this mess.
Four years ago a restaurant tour by two British comedians resulted in one of the most charming films of 2010. “The Trip” was an improvised journey not just through Northern England’s culinary scene but through the psyches of Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon as they comment on life, usually while doing spot-on Michael Caine impressions.
The Michael “You were only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!” Caine impressions are back in full force in “The Trip to Italy,” as are the laughs and the self-aware conversations.
This time around Coogan and Brydon rent a Mini Cooper and retrace the steps of the Byron and the other Romantic poets’ grand tour of Italy set to the music of Alanis Morissette’s “Jagged Little Pill.” They eat, banter and take in the view from Liguria to Capri. Between a hysterical re-imagining of the dialogue from “The Dark Knight Rises”—“I can Hardy understand what Tom’s saying.”—and a one-sided conversation with a preserved corpse in Pompeii, is a study on everything from fatherhood to fame to faithfulness.
Director Michael Winterbottom luxuriates in the chemistry between the two men. They are naturals, an intellectual version of The Two Ronnies, who riff on everything from pop culture hot buttons like Batman and pop music to the carnal exploits of Lord Byron. Their interplay is the key to keeping the rambling narrative on track and it is enough. They are the film’s glue and the sheer joy of watching them spar prevents the film from dipping into self-indulgence. That, and the gorgeous scenery.
“The Trip to Italy” is a riotous comedy that finds time for self-reflection, Roger Moore impressions and the timeless Alanis Morissette vs Avril Lavigne debate and it is intimate and infectious.
