The Man From U.N.C.L.E. review

The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (12A/PG-13, 116 mins)
Director: Guy Ritchie
★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆

There can be little doubt that turning old TV programmes into movies can be a lucrative business, with Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation currently lighting up box offices and flying the flag for a two-decade old franchise.

Unfortunately that magic has evaporated with the big screen adaptation of another 60s spy show in the shape of The Man From U.N.C.L.E. which deals in Cold War spy shenanigans, albeit coming up woefully short in the actual shenanigans department.

A dull opening sequence introduces us to CIA agent Napoleon Solo (Henry Cavill), who is in East Berlin trying to bust out Gaby (Alicia Vikander) over the wall. Trying to stop him is KGB agent Illya Kuryakin (Armie Hammer), by means of a pedestrian car chase and laboured banter.

It fails to pick up after this, as the pair are told by their superiors that they must work together to prevent a nuclear bomb being built, which has something or other to do with Gaby’s uncle. She poses as Kuryakin’s wife as the - for want of a better word - action moves to Rome and a lot of talking ensues.

It’s all punishingly dull, paced like treacle and the exact opposite of what you might reasonably have expected from a Guy Ritchie spy movie, given what he did with Sherlock Holmes. It’s also the exact opposite of a summer movie, entirely lacking life or energy, and absolutely nothing happens for the first hour or more. It’s supposed to be a sprightly caper and the music seems to think the film is jaunty, but that’s not backed up by what’s on screen.

It’s not even as though while nothing is happening we’re getting to know those involved or being entertained by them. Solo and Kuryakin are dull as individuals and chemistry-deficient when they get together.

Taking place mostly in Italy, it’s remarkably glamour-free, while the need to make it look like the 60s adds a horrible CG sheen to some of the locations. Elsewhere honking innuendo passes for humour and it treats the audience like idiots through painful exposition.

So the humour is lame, the action is non-existent and the espionage is thrill-less. It should be Bond, but it’s barely Johnny English, aiming for laid back but overdoing it to the extent that it becomes an immensely boring failure.

Cloud Atlas review

Cloud Atlas (15, 172 mins)
Directors: Tom Tykwer, Lana Wachowski, Andy Wachowski
★ ★ ★ ★ ★

by Steven Neish

While reading the diaries of a young American lawyer (Jim Sturgess) busy concluding business during the Californian gold-rush, amanuensis Robert Frobisher (Ben Whishaw) produces “The Cloud Atlas Sextet”, a masterpiece in part inspired by the dreams of an aging composer. After a chance meeting with Frobisher’s ex-lover in 1973 puts her up against Lloyd Hooks (Hugh Grant), journalist Luisa Rey (Halle Berry) pens a crime novel based on her investigations into his oil company, to be published 27 years later by one Timothy Cavendish (Jim Broadbent). In the future, the plight of a small rebellion and their clone saviour (Doona Bae) continues to impact the life of Zachry (Tom Hanks), 106 years after The Fall.

Written, produced and directed by the Wachowski siblings and Run Lola Run director Tom Tykwer, Cloud Atlas is one of the most expensive independent movies of all time. The film’s ambitious nature goes far beyond finding financers, however, as it attempts to translate David Mitchell’s labyrinthine, meandering and damn-near impossible novel for the big screen.

While Ang Lee has already filmed the unfilmable with Yann Martel’s Oscar-winning Life Of Pi, that story only dared to tackle such everyday concepts as life, love and faith. Cloud Atlas, on the other hand, does not stop there; split into six separate but intertwining stories, the film uses twelve actors, unprecedented prosthesis and countless characters to ruminate on everything from prejudice, bigotry and subjegation to art, fate and the very fabric of time and space.

Unlike most multi-strand stories of its ilk, there isn’t a single dud note to be found in Cloud Atlas‘ pages, leitmotif or frames. Every thread, though diverse, holds its own as each weaves in and out of the other competing and complementing narratives. Whether it’s the poignancy of one composer’s search for inspiration, the comedy of one old codger’s attempted escape from an old folks’ home, or one saviour’s plight in a dystopian future, the filmmakers build an entire universe, generation by generation, that is forever bold, believable and utterly breathtaking.

That they manage to introduce each of the six strands without immediately losing half of the audience is an incredible achievement; that they continue to develop and explore the individual stories across the remaining running time is something else entirely. Not only do the filmmakers manage to cut from story to story in a way that is fluid and meaningful, but they manage to build to simultaneous moments of overwhelming power and emotion in the process, the structure simulating the cyclical nature of its source material without ever becoming repetitive.

Even more astonishing is the work done in front of the camera. During development the decision was made to recycle the core cast across the various stories to add to the overarching sense of inter-connectivity between past, present and future. It works beautifully, as the likes of Hanks, Berry and, perhaps most surprisingly of all, Grant are able to showcase their talents, and within a single film put paid to their individual pigeonholes and typecasts. The actors, unlimited by age, race or gender, each deliver a plethora of perfectly-judged performances. Even if the make-up occasionally falters, their abilities never do.

That said, it would be easy to laugh at Cloud Atlas, and I’m sure many will. Heck, there are days - years, even - in which I’m certain I would do, too. While some of the storylines are funnier than others (intentionally, that is), there is an unabashed grandiosity and pretense that lingers throughout. When grappling with such enormous themes and while boldly pushing the boundaries of technology and belief, however, you will always run the risk of alienating audiences, and the accomplishments of Cloud Atlas are so vast that it really doesn’t matter how you react to it, just that you do react. And that you keep reacting for many years to come as the film is studied, debated and slowly unravelled.

Having now seen the film twice, I’m more convinced than ever that Cloud Atlas is something truly special. It’s a masterpiece for the ages; a master-work and borderline transcendent experience that leaves everything else released so far this year in its wake, somehow managing to tell just about every story imaginable in the space of three hours. How it wasn’t nominated for Best Film, let alone Best Adapted Screenplay or Best Make-Up is still beyond me, but then even after two viewings so too is much of the film.

The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists review

The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists (U, 88 mins)
Director: Peter Lord
★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆

Aardman Animation has been a great British success story for over two decades, hoovering up Oscars left right and centre in the 90s with their brilliant Wallace & Gromit shorts.

Their feature output has been a bit of a mixed bag though, beginning with the successful Chicken Run and peaking with another Oscar win for Wallace & Gromit in The Curse of the Were-Rabbit. But they hit something of a bump with their move to computer generated animation with the lacklustre Flushed Away and last year’s decent but unmemorable Arthur Christmas.

The clumsily titled The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists marks a return to the charming plasticine adventures that made Aardman’s reputation, and while it’s not up there with the best of their stuff, it’s still a very pleasant diversion in the run up to the Easter holidays.

Hugh Grant, who rarely appears on screen these days, provides a voice for an animated film for the first time, and does a terrific job, playing a pirate captain who goes by the name of, erm, Pirate Captain. He yearns to be Pirate of the Year, but must always watch in disappointment as other more illustrious pirates walk off with the title.

He just doesn’t have what it takes in terms of dastardliness, and is really rather hopeless when it actually comes to plundering and pirating. But when he and his shipmates run into a young scientist named Charles Darwin, an opportunity comes their way when Darwin recognises that the ship’s parrot is in fact a dodo, long thought extinct.

It could be the scientific discovery of the age, and might net Pirate Captain the gold and booty he needs to win the pirate trophy. But to get the scientific acclaim means a trip to London, where Queen Victoria has a real beef against pirates.

Though there’s plenty scope to make fun of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, the urge to go all oo-arr is very much resisted here. Instead it’s all very British, typified by Grant’s unexpected yet ingenious casting, and he delivers his most engaged and committed performance in years.

It’s packed with plenty of throwaway gags and visual jokes, though only once or twice does it manage to replicate the sort of manic action that defined Wallace & Gromit. Anachronisms and modern references abound, and there’s a surprisingly large dash of innuendo, but it provides warm chuckles rather than big laughs, and the whole is just not quite at a level necessary to turn it into something of lasting value.

It’s lifted a notch by a tremendous voice cast which, as well as Grant, also include nice turns from Martin Freeman, David Tennant as Darwin and Imelda Staunton as a very un-Queen like Queen Victoria. Ashley Jensen stole the show as an elf in Arthur Christmas, and she gets a number of good moments here as the Surprisingly Curvaceous Pirate.

The result is hardly vintage Aardman then but, much like Arthur Christmas, this is endearing and amusing enough to get the job done.