¡Atraco!

Think Don Quijote and Sancho Panza, but set in 1950s Madrid, and where Don Quijote and his faithful servant are Argentinians reluctantly posing as Uruguayans. That’s ¡Atraco! for you. It’s the film chosen by Cornerhouse for the opening gala of Spanish language film festival ¡Viva! on Friday evening.

You’d do well to remember that it’s described as tragi-comic cine noir, because for all its bumbling, inept and comic plot, it has a surprising depth and seriousness to it. Set partly in Panamá, where the deposed Perón lives, post-Evita, his supporters want to arrange for him to go into exile in Spain, and to finance it they pawn Evita’s jewels in Madrid. Unfortunately Doña Carmen, wife of Franco, takes a liking to them and the jewels have to be rescued by  pre-arranged robbery.

One of Evita’s former security guards gets the job, along with a young man they just happen upon one day. They have the will, but they don’t really have the ability, to carry through this heist. Plenty of comedy, some romance, bad language (the young man says coño a lot, in order to ‘blend in’) and plenty of digs at Uruguayans.

Beautiful film by Eduard Cortés, starring actors from both sides of the Atlantic, and a timely reminder that it wasn’t that long ago when Spain was governed by a dictator. Easy to forget how bad it was, while on the surface it remained almost normal.

Perón’s fondness for dancers gets a mention, and Isabel features briefly. But no one can hold a candle to the beloved Evita. She commands loyalty even from the grave, and her servants are willing to die for her.

Waiting for ¡Viva!

With less than two weeks until the 2013 ¡Viva! film festival at Cornerhouse, I am trying to gauge how many films I will be able to manage. As usual there are a lot of promising looking films, both from Spain and from Latin America.

It’d be easy to think that perhaps these unknown (=non-English language) countries might have a few films to offer every year. But it’s worth remembering that a lot of people live in Spanish speaking countries, and they have their own film industries, just like Hollywood and others.

And it can’t be just me who looks at what our ordinary cinemas have to offer, only to decide that there is nothing that will tempt me out of the house, to spend time and money on.

So to find quite so many tempting films on offer for every ¡Viva! every year, feels pretty exciting. With little knowledge of actors or directors, it’s mostly a case of reading blurbs and making wild guesses at what will be suitable.

So far I can’t think of a single one I haven’t liked.

Pitch Perfect

This film did such a swift disappearing act from cinemas that we barely caught it, back in early January. While Pitch Perfect is not the best film I’ve seen, it’s far from bad. (It beats Les Mis…)

A cappella is nearly always fun, although they did make this group of college girls more awful to begin with, so they could be seen to improve. The boy group was better, especially towards the end, with the exit of their idiot lead singer. But the girls had to win, because it was their film.

Oh well.

I learned some new things about American college life, while still not grasping why new students put up with the ridiculous rules for joining societies on campus. (Couldn’t help wondering if – when – they did any studying.)

Not being an Anna Kendrick fan, I spent most of the film fascinated by her teeth. Her love interest was cute enough, but Skylar Astin seemed a bit old for his role. They all did. I loved Rebel Wilson as Fat Amy, and was ashamed that our audience laughed as soon as she was on screen. Being fat is in itself not amusing. Hana Mae Lee was so quiet I mostly couldn’t tell what she was whispering.

The brawl that sent the heroine to jail was fun, but I do wish someone would explain why they sang in an empty swimming pool.

Pitch Perfect is good to look at, with some great accompanying noise. I’m not sure there was an awful lot of plot there, though.

Miserable, with music

I’ve been reliably informed that my company will not be required ever again when Daughter goes to see a film. I’m not allowed not to like a film, nor am I permitted to lie when asked for my opinion. It’s tough.

It was Les Misérables that clinched – or unclinched – my presence. I didn’t like it enough. I didn’t hate it, although it was long and slow. Felt it would have done better without the singing, or better with actors who could sing better. The females all sang well, so surely they could have unearthed a few male actors who can carry a tune?

He is nice to look at, that Hugh Jackman. But I won’t be buying his collected albums any time soon. It was good that they all sang as they acted, but at times I just wanted to speed them on a bit. Also, in this day and age when we have abusive adults on our minds at all times; a scene like when Valjean meets Cosette for the first time is pretty disturbing, even when it’s not bad.

The photography was excellent. Even the Paris sewers looked ‘good,’ albeit not very tempting.

And I cried at the end. How could I not?

Too long. But educational. Relieved I never saw it on stage, although the voices might have been better. It’ll get a lot of Oscars, this one.

Tom and Billy at Cornerhouse

Thank you, Northern! If you hadn’t locked your passengers in that train at Stockport on Wednesday night, I could have been sitting there in the audience at Cornerhouse with all the others. I might even have enjoyed myself.

It was the Bafta preview screening followed by Q&A with Billy Connolly and Tom Courtenay. It sounded like it could be fun.

As it was, I have no idea what’s being asked here. Hopefully something suitably impertinent for Wilf/Billy. I will just have to treat is as though it was a silent Q&A session. Unlike the film, which is part friendly argument and part music.

Looking on the bright side; these photos are a lot better than mine would have been. I almost feel as though I was there, after all. (Northern – I am not letting you off the hook!)

It’s good of Cornerhouse to arrange these kinds of events. Next time I’ll travel in the day before, just to make sure.

(Photos by Paul Greenwood)

Quartet

We need a couple of feelgood films every year, and it is clear that Quartet is intended to be one of them. It has all you need except perhaps for Judi Dench. And maybe actors who are believable singers.

Had this film been about almost any former career than opera singing, I’d have bought it straightaway. Billy Connolly plays himself, more or less. Maggie Smith does too. Herself, not Mr Connolly. Pauline Collins is lovely and scatterbrained and Tom Courtenay charmingly restrained and gentlemanlike. But I don’t see retired opera singers in any of them.

The music is lovely and the singing – done by others – is fine. The setting is suitably English countryside and stately home for American viewers. The actors are a treat to watch and listen to. Michael Gambon looks wonderful in a dressing gown. The concept of a retirement home for ancient musicians is a fantastic one, albeit also rather unlikely.

But as in many films, these elderly dears are not so very elderly. Would they really be in a home? Wilf has a stick (walking kind) but moves in such a sprightly fashion I don’t reckon Billy Connolly knows what it means to really need a stick. As for Maggie Smith’s character needing a new hip…

The film would have been spot on had this been about truly old and normal inmates in a home. But that would have been less glamorous.

To me the great unknown here is the film’s director, Dustin Hoffman. I’m not sure he was able to squeeze enough out of the grand cast he assembled. They could all do so much more than simply walk – nimbly – around, being themselves. Although that is of course a lot of fun.

(I suspected the supporting actors were the real deal, and the credits told us who every single one of them used to be.)

—

There will be a Bafta preview of Quartet at Cornerhouse on Wednesday 12th December at 18.10, followed by Q & A with Tom Courtenay and Billy Connolly.

Skyfall

We can’t all make it to see the new James Bond on the first night. But we could do without the spoilers friends provided from the word go. When people on facebook talk about something that was on television just now, but which I couldn’t watch, I tend to read cautiously, in case they give things away. But they are usually good.

So what went wrong with Skyfall? I saw it two weeks late, knowing the two main bits of news already. It didn’t ruin the film, but why can’t people shut up and use some discretion?

The other surprising element this time round was the universal approval of Skyfall. Didn’t hear anyone saying it was a bit rubbish. Or I didn’t until I read Adrian McKinty’s blog post after I’d seen the film. He thought it was boring, and whereas I don’t totally agree with him, I had allowed the thought that they could easily have made it 20 minutes shorter, to cross my mind. Sitting for nearly two and a half hours is a pain.

But, let’s not be too grumpy. It was entertaining. I don’t particularly like Daniel Craig (I’m more of a Brosnan lady), and I didn’t care for the woman who … but who am I to decide these things?

Bérénice Marlohe did well, which surprised me as I don’t always go for the beautiful Bond girls they come up with.

I love our national treasure, or Judi Dench as I believe she’s called. She was good in this one. She’s always good, but it felt like she might have been better still this time. And I knew that she … You know.

Ralph Fiennes was another one who would have come across differently if I hadn’t already been aware of some aspects of his character. Nice man. Not so Ola Rapace, who annoys me. (Is this turning into a list of Witch Hates?) I kept looking at him, feeling he looked familiar, and annoying. Couldn’t place him at first, but saw enough to remind me I don’t like him.

Q was fine. (See, I don’t hate everyone.)

On the other hand, there is Javier Bardem, who is no favourite of mine. Although he is preferable as a baddie than as the love interest. Horrible though it was, I could see the funny side when the tube train … No, no, mustn’t say anything.

Apparently Scotland doesn’t look like it did in Skyfall, according to my Resident IT Consultant, who knows about Scotland. I thought it was nicely bleak, in a satisfying sort of way.

Some good humorous dialogue, and obviously all the action you take for granted these days. Not bad. Not marvellous, since I have no wish to immediately see it again, or anything, but I didn’t suffer. Apart from the vertigo inducing scenes, which made me feel sick.

Nice to see the cinema full, for once. I mean, I prefer it to be half empty for my comfort, but it’s good to know the cinema can fill up when it wants to. Although it was  a Wednesday.

Ducky and David

This man isn’t 79. This is Donald Mallard, aka Ducky. It’s hard to determine his age, when you know how old David McCallum is. But I’d say close to 65. After all, Ducky has been ‘too old’ for almost ten years now.

The man who is 79 today is David, the actor. Hard to believe, isn’t it?

Just as well he’s getting a hug. I’d give him one too, if he was here. Or I there. Or even both of us somewhere else.

Happy 79th!

Bourne to be Brave

Much to the disgust of Daughter, I found I didn’t think a great deal of either of the two films we’ve seen in the cinema in the last week. It somehow feels better to watch duds at home. Perhaps because you’ve paid less, and there’s no travelling. Although, colourful Wednesdays make the disappointment easier to bear, financially.

The Bourne Legacy; well I like action films, but this one should have been shorter. I didn’t need to know what had happened before this particular Bourne. They’re all the same, in some way. But they need to be entertaining.

We watched it in atrocious company. Stockport cineworld is usually pretty good at keeping noisy elements quiet, or chucking them out. This time we were several adults, making more than one trip to the foyer to point out they needed to do something about two groups of immature ‘teenagers.’ One group was thrown out after two hours, and that was too late.

Maybe they found it boring, too.

For me it was like a James Bond gone bad. Somehow Jeremy Renner blended into Daniel Craig before my eyes.

So I had some hope of Brave being better, on the grounds that surely one of two films must be OK. It was mercifully shorter, once we’d suffered through half an hour of commercials, trailer and a little something else just to tease us.

I liked Merida’s hair. Very pretty. And you can’t help but enjoy Billy Connolly. But there wasn’t much else in this Disney view of what Scotland looks like. Some light relief in seeing what they wore under their kilts, but…

Don’t mind childish. Don’t mind cheesy. But I need something to tug at my heart (I do have one). The children in the audience liked the pratfalls. But that’s not the same as a good film.

What worries me the most is that fed on a film diet like this, soon no one will know what to demand. Disney films in the ‘olden days’ (not all that long ago) usually had something. Even the ones that got bad reviews tended to have enough to please me and not feel I’d wasted my time or my money.

You can’t pretend to make a good film. You actually have to do it.

Captain America: The First Avenger

I seem to be watching the Avengers films back to front. Having started with The Avengers a couple of weeks ago, Daughter then sat me down to watch Captain America. As she put it, ‘you liked him, didn’t you,’ so there I was, watching the previous film before I knew what was happening.

Not that I suffered, but I don’t expect I’ll watch all of them. And I don’t think the order matters. I knew nothing about Captain America before these two films, but the second film did rather give away the fact that he wouldn’t die. On the other hand, it’s not something heroes normally do.

This is good, simple, adventure stuff. Not totally realistic, but close enough. And fun. We had a discussion about the size of Chris Evans, which I felt was Hagrid in reverse, and that seems to have been about the right guess.

Some of the scenery struck both of us as very familiar, and before we’d even investigated it, Daughter reminded me that I had, actually, blogged about this once before. And I had. Memory like a sieve, is what I have. They got blown up in our home town, so to speak.

The plot might not be terribly original, but the writing’s good, and offered many useful quotes: ‘I thought you were dead.’ ‘And I thought you were smaller.’ Nice period feel, with something of Where Eagles Dare about it.