Lucy Movie Review 0 55


There’s something to be said for a film that, in spite of all its obvious stupidities and leaps in logic, can still be a lot of damn fun. Luc Besson’s latest, Lucy, is one such film, an action-thriller that embraces its ridiculous nature and moves at a break neck pace so that you either don’t notice the chinks in the armour or are having too much of a good time to care.

Scarlett Johansson plays the eponymous Lucy, an ordinary woman who finds herself caught up in a dangerous deal, involving a new synthetic drug. Her captors, headed by a Korean gangster (played by Oldboy star Choi Min-sik), force an operation on her where they seal a bag of the mysterious substance inside of her abdomen. But during transport the bag bursts and the substance enters her bloodstream, exponentially increasing her brain’s capacity from the usual 10% which gives her ever-increasing abilities, providing her with the opportunity to get back at her captors.

Besson has, shall we say, not always been the most emotionally deep of directors, often choosing style over substance. This means most of his movies leave your mind the minute you’ve finished watching them. And while Lucy falls more into that category than it does Leon (easily Besson’s best and most mature work), there’s a verve and enjoyable tongue-in-cheek nature to it that makes it one of the director’s best films in ages.

The central concept here is not a unique one, the idea of the capacity for human intelligence and its clash – or rather, merge – with medical and technology advancement having been explored many times before, whether it’s the perils of inventive artificial intelligence in the likes of I, Robot, A.I. and 2001: A Space Odyssey or something more grounded in modern reality like Limitless. The tagline for Lucy – “the average person uses 10% of their brain capacity. Imagine what she could do with 100%,”- immediately calls to mind that Bradley Cooper thriller. Even as recently as this year, Christopher Nolan’s collaborative cinematographer Wally Pfister made his directorial debut with the ambitious, but hugely disappointing Transcendence, which saw Johnny Depp’s forward-thinking scientist have his subconscious uploaded to a computer.

Lucy is like the film that the po-faced Transcendence should have been, treating its ridiculous premise with the sort of over-the-top, throw everything at the wall and see what sticks approach it requires. It’s therefore messy and sometimes feels like a kid hopped up on sugar, as well as getting a little too caught up in its own information about the possibilities of human intelligence as relayed by Morgan Freeman’s professor character. But it’s held together by the inimitable Johansson, who proves herself a great action heroine outside playing Black Widow in the Marvel movies. She’s obviously having a lot of fun with the lead role, putting in a committed and charming performance always with a glint in her eye.

Part stylised assassin revenge flick, part flashy science lesson, Lucy is an enjoyably bonkers and visually arresting film. It’s ultimately nonsense-spouting mumbo-jumbo but, unlike many of Besson’s 21st century action flicks, you feel like there’s a wry smile behind the ludicrousness. Whether it turns into a new action franchise for Besson (ala Taken) or remains a single shot of energetic absurdity, there’s something pleasing about the fact that this sort of preposterous action film can be made and, hopefully, embraced. It’s not going to win any Oscars, for sure, but it’s one of the year’s most throw your hands up in the air, just go with it fun movie-going experiences.

This review was previously published on Scotcampus.

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I’m a freelance film reviewer and blogger with over 10 years of experience writing for various different reputable online and print publications. In addition to my running, editing and writing for Thoughts On Film, I am also the film critic for The National, the newspaper that supports an independent Scotland, covering the weekly film releases, film festivals and film-related features.

I have a passion for all types of cinema, and have a particular love for foreign language film, especially South Korean and Japanese cinema. Favourite films include The Big Lebowski, Pulp Fiction and 2001: A Space Odyssey.

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Movie Review: Home Again 0 418

This review was previously published at The National.

Despite an obviously talented leading lady in Reese Witherspoon and a family pedigree behind the camera in making this sort of rom-com flutter sweetly off the screen, Home Again struggles to finds its way out of cloying cliché and narrative contrivance.

This is the directorial debut of Hallie Myers-Shyer, daughter of genre stalwart Nancy Meyers (The Holiday, What Women Want). It focuses on the life of Alice Kinney (Witherspoon), a single mum who has just turned 40 and tries her best to raise her two daughters Isabel (Lola Flanery) and Rosie (Eden Grace Redfield) in Los Angeles with her job as an interior decorator.

Freshly separated from her British music mogul husband Austen (Michael Sheen), she embarks on a drunken birthday night celebration that leads to her meeting a trio of 20-something lads – Harry (Pico Alexander), George (Jon Rudnitsky) and Teddy (Nat Wolff) – who are trying their best to break into the Hollywood movie business.

The young men improbably end up staying in Alice’s guest house while they work on finishing the script for their first film. Before long they become an integral part of her life, from Alice embarking on a romantic relationship with Harry to George helping out Isabel with her school play. To quote the title of the director’s mother’s 2009 film – it’s complicated.

Except the film mistakes the kind of enjoyably frothy complexity exemplified by the best of the genre for skin-clawing convolution that renders much of the romantic and comedically-tinged drama of Alice’s life lacking in authenticity. Not that it needs the ring of truth that comes with, say, a Ken Loach picture but you need to be able to invest and believe in these characters’ lives as presented.

The approach to gender and generational relationships is simplistic which, of course, is nothing new to a genre that, at least in its Hollywoodized state, so often throws up films meant to be taken as easy-going fluff. But it’s particularly frustrating here when it squanders the potential thrown up with the initial concept of a woman trying to find herself again once she’s out of a stale relationship by entering into one with a much younger man.

It strangely seems far more interested in the plight of the three young men working as three cogs of one creative machine – director/producer, writer and actor – to get ahead in the movie business.  But even then it smacks of implausibility, like a cheap rom-com version of the bromance found in Entourage but without any of the snarky wit or Hollywood satire. Despite decent chemistry between a likeable assembled cast, Home Again is a tough pill to swallow as it rings false through and through.

3.5 out of 10

Movie Review: Goodbye Christopher Robin 0 449

This review was previously published at The National.

The world of celebrated children’s author A. A. Milne and the creation of his beloved Winnie the Pooh stories are chronicled in this frightfully polite biopic from director Simon Curtis (My Week with Marilyn) that flirts with dipping its toes into darker waters but steadfastly clings to safe tropes and always with its top button firmly fastened.

We start off in 1941 where we find an ageing Milne (Domhnall Gleeson in questionable make-up and greyed hair) and his wife Daphne (Margot Robbie) living on their secluded East Sussex farm. They receive a telegram informing them that their son, C.R. Milne, is missing presumed dead after heading off to fight in World War Two.

We then jump back in time to Milne on the front lines of the First World War. He returns from the fighting a changed man; suffering from PTSD (popped balloons evoking sudden gunfire et al.), becoming increasingly sick of just making people laugh with his West End plays and the general hustle-bustle that comes with big city life.

He convinces his reluctant wife to move to the country for some peace and quiet and where his infant son, Christopher Robin (played by Will Tilston at the younger age, Alex Lawther as he gets older), can go on the childhood adventures he deserves with the support of loving nanny Olive (Kelly Macdonald).

Settling into the kind of serene life he craves, he is inspired to create Winnie the Pooh and the rest of his soon-to-be-beloved friends inspired by the stuffed animals with which his young son has become so enamoured. Unfortunately for Christopher – referred to by everyone as “Billy Moon” – his father uses his real name in the stories, turning him into one of the most famous boys in the nation.

Despite the obvious attraction of it exploring the world famous Pooh stories, it’s a film much more interested in the effect it has on a fractured family clinging on to peacefulness, not least the unwanted attention thrust upon a young boy who simply isn’t equipped to handle it and how his parents carry on oblivious.

If anything it takes a curiously bleak outlook on what these stories mean to the world once they’ve been put out there, conveying a somewhat confusing message for a film that ultimately wants us to celebrate these stories as immortally cherished tales; that the Winnie the Pooh embraced immediately by the public and has now stood the test of time for almost a century is in some way missing the point of what it truly means to the author and a son who, inadvertently or not, was used as a tool of innocence to sell the idea of an idyllic childhood in Milne’s Hundred Acre Wood.

It’s bolstered by almost uniformly moving performances; Gleeson plays Milne with a kind of damaged empathy that makes you feel like you get to know the author beyond the public persona. Macdonald is oftentimes heart-breaking as Christopher’s devoted caregiver and Tilston walks away with the film as the adorably sweet-natured young Christopher. It’s only with Robbie that the film makes a misstep; she’s miscast as Milne’s wife and never stepping out of the shadow of cold motherly cliché.

In spite of its darker leanings, the film remains too buttoned up to properly wrestle with those themes in any sort of lasting way, far too polite to ever dive head first into the murky waters into which the drama intermittently peers.

Wrapped in Ben Smithard’s handsomely old-fashioned cinematography and soaked in Carter Burwell’s perpetually swelling score, it’s an aesthetically and emotionally appealing but nevertheless fairly vanilla period biopic best suited to being enjoyed on a rainy Sunday afternoon with tea and biscuits.

6.5 out of 10