The Hunger Games: Mockingjay, Part 1 review

The Hunger Games: Mockingjay, Part 1 (12A/PG-13, 123 mins)
Director: Francis Lawrence
★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

The final book in Suzanne Collins’ Hunger Games trilogy gets a now standard two-movie split, and if you haven’t seen the films that have preceded it, you haven’t got a chance with this first part.

It begins immediately after the events of the second film, Catching Fire, with Katniss (Jennifer Lawrence) taken from the Games arena and waking up to find herself in the supposedly destroyed District 13.

We’ve had glimpses of the bigger picture before, but now that what was essentially training in the Games is out of the way, we can get down to the real business. And that aim is full-on revolution, the overthrow of the corrupt and authoritarian government of the Capital, led by President Snow (Donald Sutherland).

The rebels are fronted by Philip Seymour Hoffman and newcomer to the series Julianne Moore as President Coin. Katniss’s actions in the arena have been the spur for uprising in the Districts, and they want her to be the face of their campaign, to film propaganda videos that let the people see there’s hope.

She’s more interested in the fate of Peeta (Josh Hutcherson), who is being held in the Capital, and it’s this tension that drives the drama rather than a reliance on set pieces. Because, goodness knows, it sure ain’t an action film, which is far from a bad thing.

As the third part in a four-part trilogy, there were always likely to be some pacing issues, and occasionally events that could take up one minute of screen time can be stretched into three or four. Some characters are afforded more screen time than might otherwise be the case or we’re introduced to people who don’t feel entirely relevant.

It’s a bit like trying to make a full meal from a limited set of ingredients, but it’s compensated for by a dramatic escalation of the threat level. Snow is going to town to destroy every threat posed by the Districts, stopping at nothing short of genocide, and the dangers are very real indeed.

This is serious, sturdy stuff, looking at fascism and totalitarianism and evoking World War II with its air-raids and underground shelters and wars of information. It’s also reminiscent of the third Matrix film or Return of the Jedi with its hidden rebel base antics, and the groundwork is worth it for a number of powerful, stirring moments.

Lawrence holds it all together as ever, with another committed and impassioned performance that reveals the steel of Katniss and demonstrates that she’s the best young actress on the planet. By the time this series closes out next November, we’ll hopefully be left with a sci-fi saga to be treasured for years to come.

The Hunger Games: Catching Fire review

The Hunger Games: Catching Fire (12A/PG-13, 146 mins)
Director: Francis Lawrence
★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

On its release last spring, The Hunger Games was undoubtedly expected to be some sort of success. In fact it turned out to be a bona fide blockbuster, to the extent that not two but three more films were immediately greenlit from the two remaining books in the young adult trilogy by Suzanne Collins. That’s right procrastination fans, in a practice started by Harry Potter and for which Twilight then took up the baton, Mockingjay, will be two films; one released this time next year, and the final film the year after that.

That speaks of the massive cash cow the series has become, but any heightened expectations for a return to the world can also be attributed to the fact the first film was really rather good. If you skipped that first movie, there’s no hope for you here, as we’re thrust back into the life of our heroine, Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence, now an Oscar winner, and an iconic presence throughout).

Katniss won the 74th Hunger Games and is now back in her District alongside Peeta (Josh Hutcherson), with the pair of champions tasked with a promotional tour of the 12 Districts of Panem.

The president (Donald Sutherland) sees her as a threat and, smelling rebellion and uprising in the air, hits on the idea of making the next Hunger Games a battle between previous champions, to eliminate as many of them as possible. Newly on board is Philip Seymour Hoffman as the Gamemaker, aiding the president in his schemes.

It’s a world of poverty and hunger, except for the rich and pampered in the Capitol, and is presented as even more of a sinister and dystopian future than before. This is not some bright and colourful fantasy land, but one cut through with a deep and abiding sorrow.

The story is told in ways that are intriguing, dangerous and smart, touching on the chasm between ordinary people and those in power, and the way in which our obsession with celebrity can be used to hide away from the real problems in the world.

Once the Games begin, it moves into a gripping and exciting jungle adventure that offers more than just a re-run of the first, only occasionally dipping in pace while keeping one eye on the bigger picture. Slightly letting down the side are combat scenes that can be a bit shaky and poorly edited, toning down what should really be brutal violence to nab the audience-friendly 12A certificate.

But it’s the themes and characters that count more than the action, and this is a stirring instalment that leaves it all to play for in the final two films.

The Master review

The Master (15/R, 143 mins)
Director: Paul Thomas Anderson
★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆

Paul Thomas Anderson’s long awaited new film, his first since the monumental There Will Be Blood five years ago, is a drifting, enigmatic thing that is bound to please some audiences more than others.

On the surface it’s a film about a cult which some have likened to Scientology, which may well be the case. It’s not really important. The sceptics do get a voice, but it’s not an attack on it, put it that way. Disappointingly, it never fully succeeds as character study either.

Anderson’s skill at conveying character through action rather than words does drive the early stages though, as we encounter Freddie (Joaquin Phoenix) just as the end of the Second World War brings his days in the navy to a close.

Something of an oddball, seemingly sex-obsessed and suffering from post traumatic stress disorder, he drifts from job to job in the years following the war, never sure what to do with himself and subject to bouts of rage.

Freddie likes to make his own hooch, almost as much as he likes to drink it. On the run after being accused of poisoning someone with it, he stows away on a boat in San Francisco bound for New York.

It’s here that me meets Lancaster Dodd, played by Anderson’s frequent collaborator, Philip Seymour Hoffman. Dodd describes himself as “a writer, a doctor, a nuclear physicist and a theoretical philosopher”, any of which may or may not be the truth, but what most certainly is true is what a powerful and magnetic figure he is.

He leads a group called The Cause, and claims he can explore a person’s past lives through time-travel hypnosis, and that through this he can cure cancer and mental illness. Dodd sees the lost soul in Freddie and sets about trying to initiate him into their ways, but Freddie’s erratic behaviour consistently comes between them.

Deliberately paced, The Master lacks the clarity of intent that made There Will Be Blood so memorable. Like that film it has at its core a man of power and ambition and great will, albeit one who is most likely a brain-washing charlatan. It takes a while to show its hand, if it ever does, but the presence of its actors keeps you watching, and the technical expertise with which it’s all put together is beyond reproach.

But the content is the key, and it’s here that The Master both triumphs and frustrates. In a second half that’s largely unchecked by narrative conventions, it jumps between scenes that don’t necessarily relate or follow on to what’s come before. It’s never dull, but nor does it ever grab you by the throat and force you to engage with it.

This is all the more exasperating because, in Hoffman, we’re watching one of the finest actors on the planet command the screen. Phoenix is almost as magnetic in an astonishing physical performance, hunched and gaunt, his face perpetually contorted in a Brando sneer. Their initial scenes together electrify, as Dodd probes the weaker man into revealing the details of his past.

But it loses its way somewhat in a midsection that feels aimless and a final third that becomes increasingly obtuse and unaccommodating, and in the end The Master is an occasionally stunning but more often than not maddening experience.