Doctor Who – The Impossible Astronaut

Director: Toby Haynes
Writer: Steven Moffat

It’s been too long since our last adventure through time and space, but the wait is finally over as we’re flung headfirst back into the thick of things. Moffat’s new Who turns it up to 11, shrouded with mystery, oozing with confidence, dripping with libido, and packing enough frights to send the kids back behind the couch where they belong. 

 

In the first few seconds we’re hit by scene after scene of the Doctor whizzing around time and space. The subtly is gone. This Doctor doesn’t waste time. From naked under an Englishwoman’s petticoats to an extra dancing in a classic black and white film, Moffat’s bombastic script delivers the laughs, as long as one does not think too deeply about the absurdity of the Doctor’s adventures.

 Four mysterious letters are sent to the Doctor’s companions, with only a set of co-ordinates and a time. Cramming in as much John Wayne American scenery as possible, the companions assemble on a dusty road in the middle of the US of A, there to meet the Doctor (the two hundred years he’s spent doing his thing throughout the universe no doubt to be documented in the infinite amount of novels and audio dramas). Their reunion is cut short when a perfect replica of an Apollo 11 astronaut emerges from a nearby lake. The Doctor explains to his friends why they’re there in his normal way of not explaining anything at all, before the astronaut suddenly turns its laser on him, first wounding him, initiating the regeneration cycle, and then killing him. 

This shock beginning, although aimed to remind viewers of the Doctor’s mortality – that he can actually die instead of just regenerating – does precisely the opposite, in the same way as the Daleks and the Cybermen – they always come back. The BBC would not dare kill off the titular character of one of the most loved (and profitable) franchises in history, especially in the first episode. Still, the Doctor’s companions don’t know this, and it’s tragic watching their interactions in the wake of their best friend’s death. Yet who should appear right at that moment? The younger version of himself. 

So begins the story proper: The Doctor and companions in the White House, with Romo Lampkin and a brilliantly prostheticised Nixon, fighting aliens they don’t even remember when they’re not looking right at them. Although appearing rather tame and generic in the promotional pictures, The Silence are brilliantly realised. When their mouths open up like a vagina, the Freudian parallels are terrifying.

Although it’s more unnerving than it has been before, the characters seem to be having more fun than ever. Mr. Pond seems to have finally found his role on board the TARDIS, instead of just being a waste of space who complains a lot before getting killed. River Song and the Doctor flirt unabashedly with each other, but if you know you’re going to die then what better thing to do? It feels good to finally see a TARDIS family again.

 

Though expertly written, it unfortunately seems that Moffat is running out of ideas. This episode masquerades as a culmination of every story he has contributed. The mysterious astronaut is a bizarre hybrid of “Are you my mummy?” (The Empty Child / The Doctor Dances) and “Hey, who turned out the lights?!” (Silence in the Library / Forest of the Dead). The terror that The Silence inflicts is based on the same principle as the Weeping Angels. The ending shares a *big* similarity with Amy’s Choice. Amy also has the worst case of amnesia ever (Flesh and Stone). Hopefully this is only a reorientation with past ideas, and they will be greatly developed in the future. Moffat obviously has something big up his sleeve in order to justify recycling so early on.

The Impossible Astronaut feels more like the end of a series. Instead of dilly-dallying around with a beginning and a middle, Moffat utilises the entire previous series as build-up and lunges right into the thick of it. This ominous sense of danger and the brutal cliff-hanger create a refreshing change to a plot-based direction, and this should pay off as the stakes build higher and higher towards the mid season finale, and then build even higher still with the second half of the Series. Even if the ideas are a bit samey, we’re glad it’s back. It’s been a long time.

4 / 5

RIP Sarah Jane. Your stipey overalls were always the best. ♥

Thor (2011)

Director: Kenneth Branagh

Writers: Ashley Edward Miller, Zack Stentz, Don Payne

The latest origin film in the lead-up to The Avengers, Marvel's Thor  pushes all the right buttons typical of the now well overdone superhero film. But that’s just it… It fails to transcend beyond the conventions inherent to deliver anything other than JUST ANOTHER HERO MOVIE. But as long as the God of Thunder is kicking butt and swinging his mighty hammer Mjolnir, it's delivering exactly what it promised.

Expertly cast Chris Hemsworth excels his initial typecast as "eye candy" to portray the titular character, the arrogant and impetuous God of Thunder, next in line to the throne of Asgard. After provoking an incident with their legendary enemies the Frost Giants, Thor is banished to earth by his father, Oden (played by an ominous Anthony Hopkins). There he meets the traditional love interest, Jane Foster (Natalie Portman) and her team of physicists. With his new friends and old, he must learn to be a more considerate Thunder God in order to return to Asgard and thwart his quick-tongued brother Loki's (Tom Hiddleston) envious plan to ignite war and bloodshed with the Frost Giants and claim the throne as his inheritance.

The best word to describe Thor is "solid". Good acting - check. Love interest - check. Jealous brother - check. Betrayal - check. Action - check. Comedy - check. Spectacle - check. Lesson - check. The art dept and costume design are unmatched, as are the visual effects. The main problem is that it doesn't dare to be anything different. There is no mystery, no ambiguity, no subtlety, as every plot point is spoon fed to the gluttonous audience.

What the hell is Natalie Portman doing after Black Swan? Did she think "I've won an Oscar, now I can play a character where I can turn up on the day, do some acting, get home in time for tea." Her character is replaceable by any other love interest, and the relationship between her and Thor refuses to be anything more than the usual "You're pretty, let's kiss." But why would Thor, the mighty God of Thunder, fall for such an underwhelming mortal woman. How many foes has she slain in glorious battle? How many enemies has she valiantly vanquished? Are her hips just right for baring his children? Is she busting out of her corset? So why her? The other characters similarly fall flat. Thor's four companions could easily be reduced to two - the busty babe and the comic relief - the Asian and the poncy rogue have so little to do with anything.

Cape continuity. In one shot, Thor is knocked onto his back. He tries to stand up, treading on his own cape. In the next shot - a wide - he rises to his feet, and the cape blows behind him. This cape continuity is noticeable in multiple sequences. It's not the end of the world, but it does tend to ruin the immersion when Thor's cape flaps around with a mind of its own.

The ending is also disappointing. It is the only time that it breaks free of genre constraints, refusing to allow Thor to use the power of Mjolnir, his hammer, to fly to triumph. The terribly clichéd post-credits teaser adds to the disappointment.

Originally shot in 2D, the rotoscoped translation to 3D fails to impress. The added darkness adds confusion to the extremely fast close-ups of the action scenes, leaving the audience unfulfilled. The added effects do not add anything more than novelty to the otherwise spectacular visual effects.

But the biggest disappointment with Thor is the terrible choice of song for the end credits. Choosing Foo Fighters over the perfectly appropriate Manowar - having written an entire album dedicated to the God of Thunder - is the biggest blasphemy.

The film provides a lot of spectacle and excitement. Thor smiting Frost Giants with his mighty hammer Mjolnir generates all the satisfaction one would expect. The jokes work, even if they work in a self-parodying way. The acting is solid, even if the characters aren't round enough. Thor delivers everything that is traditional of the current superhero movie, nothing less, but certainly nothing more. It is just one step closer to The Avengers and what could be the best or worst film ever. The anticipation is murderous.

3 / 5

Little White Lies (2010)

Les Petits Mouchoirs

France

Writer and Director: Guillaume Canet

Little White Lies’ opening shot is a single take featuring a man strung out on cocaine leaving a Parisian nightclub in the wee hours of the morning, mounting his scooter, the camera spinning around him as he rides it through block after block of traffic lights before being shattered against the windscreen of a large truck and tossed to the road like a ragdoll. This is the catalyst for the premature reunion of a group of old friends, equipping scrubs and facial masks to visit the bloodied and disfigured wreck of a well-loved man. The Doctors are optimistic that he’ll recover, absolving the group’s decision to depart on their coveted annual retreat to rich restaurateur autocrat Max’s Summer home. At the beach all the lies and past secrets come together, culminating in the tragic and comedic interplay between the large cast of characters. Lovers come and go, friendships are consolidated and people exorcise their demons in what amounts to a very predictable yet mildly enjoyable reunion piece.

Max is habitually the comic relief, lightening the mood and providing distraction amid the frequently failing interpersonal relationships. Prior to leaving for his beach home, his longtime married friend Vincent confesses his love for him in a crowded restaurant. The typically high-strung businessman reacts aggressively to Vincent’s insistence that he “loves his hands”. On vacation, Max finds it impossible to relax, with many sleepless nights and a hilarious boating accident which leaves him run aground and pantsless with Vincent overnight. This concludes with a stand-out scene in which Max brings an axe to the wall in order to flush out the family of weasels that have infiltrated his crawlspace.

Academy Award winner Marion Cotillard (of Inception fame) shows her worth as an artist who never wants to commit in a relationship. Although her character is a stereotype in a supporting role she impresses with her ability to cry, but when the film predictably results with her tearing up three times in quick succession, it feels like her talents have been exploited.

The final scene itself acts as a plot device to absolve all characters of blame for their misdeeds and bring them all back together in the wake of a tragedy to live happily ever after with each other, revealing the films unsubtle intentions as a tearjerker. The obnoxious soundtrack invades scenes to intensify the emotion, with English lyrics demanding us to feel what we’re supposed to be feeling, in case it wasn’t obvious enough.

At an inflated 154 minutes, Canet certainly needs to learn to trim the fat, as half the character arcs become underwhelming when compared to others. For the characters that do count though, the film is certainly worth watching, and the first half certainly outweighs the overblown second in terms of entertainment, as long as you’re not expecting anything ground-breaking.

3 / 5

The Killer Inside Me (2010)

Director: Michael Winterbottom

Writer: John Curran

The Killer Inside Me is the latest effort from Michael Winterbottom, a prolific British Director, renowned for adapting the un-adaptation and filming the “unfilmable”, transforming The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentlemen – a novel about a narrator who is so easily distracted that by the end he has not even come to his own birth – into a typically British comedy farce. This time, he turns the brutal and unrelenting 1952 Jim Thompson American pulp novel into a stylish noir thriller, with graphic depictions of sadomasochism.

Casey Affleck plays Deputy Sheriff Lou Ford. He lives in a small town, leading a quite unremarkable life. People think him slow and boring, but little do they know that under that facade exists a sociopath with a masochistic sexual orientation. At the appeal of the Sheriff, Lou pays a visit to Joyce Lakeland (Jessica Alba), a prostitute having an affair with businessman Chester Conway's son, in order to evict her from the county due to her bad influence. In retaliation for Lou's treatment of her, Joyce begins to slap him. This unleashes Lou's anger, and he throws her to the bed and begins to flog her with his belt, in the same way Lou's mother had been abused. The scene lingers uncomfortably on the prostitute's anguish as her initial struggles turn to pleasure, and the two make violent love: the beginning of a passionate affair. Winterbottom drives these shocking brutal sadomasochistic scenes to the extreme, portraying them exactly how they would be written in the pulp novel, but he never takes them over the edge, instead leaving the audience balancing on the verge of disgust.

When Lou refuses to leave town with her, the two hatch a plan to extort $10,000 out of Conway. Lou is instructed to oversee the payment, made by Conway's son, but Lou has other plans. Prior to the meeting, Lou brutally and unrelentingly beats Joyce to a bloody pulp, not even stopping when she ceases to move. When Conway's son arrives, Lou shoots him to death, planting the gun in Joyce's hand, in what resembles a murder-suicide. Under the suspicion of his girlfriend Amy (Kate Hudson) that Lou is cheating on her, previous victims attempting blackmail on him, and the District Attorney who believes Joyce couldn't be capable of her alleged actions, Lou is forced into more drastic and gruesome deeds in order for his depraved urges to remain hidden.

Casey Affleck plays the role of Lou Ford brilliantly and unnervingly. His constant high-pitched mumble and occasional blow-outs exudes innocence, giving hint towards a socially undeveloped child. His constant talk in platitudes and clichés add to his quiet, reserved insanity. The reason he does the things he does is hinted at in brief flashbacks of his sordid relationship with his mother, and this is reflected in his relationship with Joyce. He realises that what he is doing is wrong but does it anyway, not knowing why. In a fit of passion he disregards the dangers of sleeping unprotected with a prostitute in order to seize what he could not understand as a child. After discarding Joyce without hesitation, Lou transfers his love of her onto his girlfriend in order to retain normality so as to not attract suspicion. When Amy smells the scent of an undiagnosed STD, she threatens to leave but Lou clings to normality in order to avoid suspicion, convincing her to stay by any means necessary, including a proposal. It doesn't matter how low it is, Lou will do it in order to continue his shameful vices. He soon begins to repeat his treatments of the prostitute on Amy, who follows along as a victim who doesn't realise she's a victim, desperately in love. Lou just seems to attract women who enjoy pain.

The transformation of Jessica Alba from the object of all pubescent fantasies to a horribly disfigured victim is ironic, and the horrific special effects make-up make it impossible to look away.

The film is not without some fault. As it revolves around an undeveloped character who is not even aware of why he does the things he does, a lot of viewers will find difficulty in emoting with him, and will become uninterested in his seemingly random outbursts of violence. The film also suffers a disappointing climax as a result of sub-par visual effects which are simply too far out of its budget. Nevertheless, The Killer Inside Me delivers a sometimes intense journey, and Winterbottom has succeeded again in creating a film that dares to sidestep the well-defined Hollywood conventions. Who wants a happy ending anyway?

3½ / 5

Paul (2011)

Director: Greg Mottola
Writer: Simon Pegg & Nick Frost

From zombie rampages to machine-gun-toting cops, Simon Pegg and Nick Frost are back with their long-awaited follow-up to Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz. Utterly crass and reading like a SF film homage checklist, Paul is definitely the brainchild of these two loveable geeks, but does it have enough substance to hold up on its own?

Pegg and Frost play Graeme Willy and “the writer Clive Gollings”, nerds living out every fanboy’s dream of a road trip across America, a nerd crusade to Comicon as well as half a dozen alleged UFO and extraterrestrial encounter sites. But things go awry as they always do and the duo find themselves face to face with Paul, the wise-cracking, potty-mouthed, pot-smoking, well-endowed little green man, a triumph of visual effects voiced by Seth Rogan. It’s a kind of magic when actors play themselves on screen. From here, the characters flee across the States, pursued by FBI agents, rednecks and a Christian fundamentalist with a shotgun.

The thing that most noticeably separates Paul from Pegg and Frost’s previous efforts is that the film seems instantly more accessible, more simplified, more Americanised. The bromance remains the same, but the actual flashes of genius are less frequent, the clever British humour swiftly reverting back to the default assurance that the word “cocksucker” will conjure laughs. It does in this case, but Pegg and Frost have proven that they are better than that on multiple occasions. Maybe it’s the absence of Edgar Wright, previous collaborator with the pair, having Directed and co-wrote both Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz. Paul lacks Wright’s frenetic montage style, instead being approached in a more straight-forward fashion.

On top of this the film is packed full of homages and references to classic Science Fiction films which threatens to alienate half the audience. These adulations are clever and often subtle, and done in a tasteful and respectful way to nerds and geeks everywhere, never lowering themselves to slighting their beloved culture. But does referencing a film that is better than your film increase the quality of your film? Especially if the film descends into in-jokes once its well of inspiration has dried up? It certainly doesn’t help when I’m saying the quotes and thinking of the references in unison with the actors. I’m surprised it took so long for the famous Aliens quote to reach fruition.

Paul conforms to a traditional three-act structure, with obligatory love interest, underdeveloped Big Bad, obvious Starman plot device, and a happily ever after ending, all seemingly thrown in without too much deliberation as an obligation to American audiences, to whom the film owes credit as its co-financer. The backing has half the cast of Arrested Development included, as if to ease Americans into associating with these crazy Brits.

Still, none of Paul’s flaws and concessions are really enough to dull the comedy. The film still retains enough substance of its own, and the standout moments are classic Pegg and Frost. The problem is that there just aren’t enough of them to make the film particularly memorable, falling short of the dizzying heights of the duo’s previous efforts. I know I laughed, but I just can’t remember what I laughed at.

3½ / 5