An Ensemble of Reviews 1

How I Live Now (2013)

Protagonist Daisy (Saoirse Ronan) is a strong-willed American with a cryptic family background and grumpy anti-authoritarian ways, who swiftly entertains a strong attraction to her floppy-haired cousin in the latter’s English countryside home. This is Kevin MacDonald’s (Last King of Scotland, State of Play) post-apocalyptic microhistory film adaptation of Meg Rosoff’s novel of the same name. London is destroyed by an off camera nuclear bomb (the aftereffects of which are viscerally interpreted by MacDonald) and the little family – two brothers, their sister, and cousin Daisy – are left alone to fend for themselves in a homage to pastoral living, a throwback to the bountiful and unequivocal innocence and beauty of children playing, minus the weighty presence of adults and their political terrorism. But the children are indicted and fragmented into the mass evacuation of south England by the military scourge. The adults tear apart the fantasy lifestyle. We follow Daisy and the little girl Piper up to a dullard family home, then their runaway journey back down to the south in a desperate bid to reunite with the lost boys. Infused throughout is the palpable idyll of the verdant country, the English forests, landscapes and streams; these images are prioritised over the grey lethargy of urban locations.

The source of danger is ever-present yet acutely abstract – the complete removal of an identifiable ‘enemy’ hinders this picture. This would be fine if MacDonald hadn’t deemed to show a scene in which the completely anonymous, seemingly apolitical ‘enemy’ can be seen shooting at children. Who are they? What are their political motivations? By introducing an alien aspect that needn’t otherwise have been there, credibility is stretched and undermined. Beyond that there is a faint absurdity surrounding the determination of Daisy, whose whirlwind romance of a few days with Eddie is enough to propel her halfway down England and treat Piper uncompassionately. It is faintly ridiculous. How I Live Now isn’t unnecessarily a bad film it just shoves pastoralism straight down your throat, like a less subtle Keats.

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (2013)

Aah The Hobbit 2, another sequel with an unhealthily bombastic budget and a colon in the title. P. Diddy Jackson slaps down another grandiloquent slice of Middle Earth apple pie, flatulently imbuing his cinema with saccharine set pieces and 48 frames a second, three dimensional animated VFX. Yet there is a method to the action-packed madness, a recognition and deference to the story that ultimately, and perhaps more than anything else, contributes to the fun. For a three hour film The Desolation of Smaug is considerably more faceted than the first hobbit film, with a variety of sets and challenges that the protagonists collectively encounter, with personal quests that enhance the narrative rather than distract from. Even the bits that writers Jackson, Philippa Boyens, Fran Walsh and Guillermo del Toro wrote independent of Tolkien’s books – like the presence of Legolas (Orlando Bloom, obviously), his back story and his elven friend Tauriel (Evangeline Lilly) – add to the cinematic experience rather detract, resulting in a movie that is broadly representative of a pre-Sauron Middle Earth. Martin Freeman reunites with Sherlock Holmes as Smaug, part of a laudable cast that incorporates the revolting Macchiavellianism of Stephen Fry’s Master of Dale and the stubborn poise of Lee Pace as Thranduil, among the regular crew. Fantasy respect can be re-appropriated to the New Zealander filmmakers; the decision to turn The Hobbit book into a three way film trilogy doesn't seem quite so nonsensical.

American Hustle (2013)

This represents perhaps the pinnacle of David O. Russell’s career rejuvenation after The Fighter and Silver Linings Playbook, sweeping the infamous actor bust-ups of years past into the ‘forgotten’ category. And this is very brilliant in its own peculiar way. American Hustle relies entirely on its idiosyncratic characters which have been constructed by writers Russell and Eric Warren Singer from the perms, flares and facial hair of the 1970s; Christian Bale is the conman Irving who has been, with partner and lover Sydney (Amy Adams), coerced into exposing and entrapping corrupt politicians by FBI ladder-climber Richie DiMaso, whose slimy predilections and desperation are expertly portrayed by vogue actor Bradley Cooper; all the while Irving’s erratic housewife Rosalyn (Jennifer Lawrence) is inadvertently sabotaging her husband’s carefully laid plans. The plot is secondary to those characters, something about taking down naïve mayor Carmine Polito (Jeremy Renner), as they all dally round, contriving events and deceiving each other with humorous asides and period costumes. Hustle is so Seventies and American it’s affected and unspontaneous, something that grates a little towards the end, particularly when Lawrence does the housework whilst singing to Elton John’s ‘Goodbye Yellow Brick Road’. Perhaps that’s just me – because I fucking hate 1970s fashion and pop music, a debacle in the long decades and centuries of human civilisation, up there with the post-Roman Dark Ages and Forties Germany. This is eminently enjoyable, though too self-congratulatory by half.

The Selfish Giant (2013)

A depressing drama film about poverty in a Yorkshire town; written and directed by the multi-talented Clio Barnard. Two friends - one Arbor a shrimp-like street urchin with a serious attention deficiency and the other Swifty, a gentle giant from a large family with an equine spirit - get thrown out of school and try to make their own money seeking independence, to succeed in the areas which their parents and older brothers had failed. By dint of their perseverance they salvage and steal scrap metal for Kitten, the local scrapyard dealer. Swifty ingratiates himself with the latter by revealing an expertise with the horse-chariot racing that Kitten regularly gambles on; but Arbor is left behind, jealous and inadvertently pissing off almost everyone he ever meets with his blunt demeanour and naive authority. Arbor's vain attempts grow increasingly desperate putting more strain on his friendship with Swifty, until the starkly tragic ending which leaves a striking shadow. This is a grey, tawdry film brilliantly acted by the young protagonists and exquisitely directed by one who possesses the filmmaking nous, knowing when to stultify and when to penetrate, and how to sequence scenes - regularly juxtaposing between sensitive and harsh. It's one of the films of 2013, and yet remains so humble and small in its miniature intentions - to portray one tiny corner of the world, and of two boys lost in the bureaucratic cracks of modern society.