Jack the Giant Slayer – film review

It’s a dirty job to be mean about something that tries so hard, with barely a shred of cynicism, to be as good natured and entertaining as Jack The Giant Slayer, but I guess somebody has to do it.

Opening with a fairytale reading so similar to the Hellboy: The Golden Army prologue that it borders on plagiaristic, Jack The Giant Slayer accidentally sucks the joy out of a timeless kids fable by trying to infuse it with darker and more complex elements – elements it didn’t really need and elements you didn’t really want, so by the time you realise you’re being fed lumpy and unnecessary exposition you’ve probably already missed it.

Hands up anyone who remembers what they were told in the first ten minutes. No? Yeah, me neither.

Well, strangely enough, after this failed attempt to beef up the Jack and the Beanstalk mythology the film descends into fey medieval pantomime territory with all the style and sophistication of a  second rate BBC television miniseries. Tents? Check. Flags? Check. Chickens? Check. Fire breathing entertainer in a bustling market place? Check.

Yet while permitting such worryingly old-hat production design clichés director Bryan Singer also seems to be suffering from Peter Jackson Fever (a real medical condition in Hollywood), therefore most of the dialogue has had to be dubbed-over in the Additional Dialogue Recording (ADR) stage so as to suck the spontaneity out of all its performances and every shot that opens a new scene has to swoop in on a crane – preferably over a babbling brook or a conveniently placed piece of set dressing.

But beyond the slightly distracting nods to dear old P.J. a strong visual signature is noticeably lacking. Singer has never had the most consistent or striking visual style, in fact I’m doubtful I could pick one of his films out of a line-up, but you can usually tell that he tries hard to add some flare to proceedings, whether or not he succeeds.

Jack The Giant Slayer is an example of when he doesn’t.

As mentioned above the overall look of the film is pretty flat in a low-budget TV production sense, as are the special effects that even a video game developer might send back with detailed notes for improvement; but elsewhere the writing is beyond abysmal and not helped by the bad ADR work and the film’s two lifeless leads (Nicholas Hoult and Eleanor Tomlinson) who both look and sound as though they could do with a hot meal to boost their energy levels and pad out their walking-skeleton physiques.

Fear not, though, as aid comes in the form of the film’s supporting players, in particular Ewan McGreggor as a pompous knight who seems always on the verge of anachronistically shouting out “chocks away!”, Ian McShane who’s just great in everything and the far too marginalised for anybody’s liking chameleonic appearance of the wonderful Stanley Tucci.

But whether or not you can digest the stilted dialogue, the occasional wooden performance or the added plot mechanics you’ll still end up grooving along to the basic beats of the classic Jack and the Beanstalk fable with added gross-out humour and gratuity-free action sequences (the final castle siege is mercifully less Battle of the Pelennor Fields and more Diet Helms Deep).

So by failing in its intention to be weighty and edgier than its roots require Jack The Giant Slayer can’t help but be a simple and fun bit of fluff that only lets itself down with some excruciating dialogue, a wet pair of lovebirds and the lack of a strong creative vision.

Basically you won’t be bored, but you’ll want to plug your ears up about five times a scene.

Sherlock Holmes: A Game Of Shadows – film review

Although Guy Ritchie’s first Sherlock Holmes installment was wearyingly clichéd in its plotting the charismatic diversionary tactics of Robert Downey Jr in the title role; Philippe Rousselot’s lush cinematography; Sarah Greenwood’s immersive production design; and James Herbert’s snappy editing made it a fabulously enjoyable treat for the senses, if perhaps not for the brain.

A Game Of Shadows, however, is a vicious assault on the senses and has even less to offer the brain. Even worse is that it doesn’t even offer us the simple thrill of a troubled but dashing Sherlock Holmes solving a complex mystery in Victorian London. No. As for reasons beyond comprehension it turns into a dull and torturously bombastic euro-thriller – a James Bond in tweed, if you will.

Gone is the richly colourful photography; instead the whole look of the film is drowned in horribly muted blues and lifeless greys that render everything that happens unpleasant to look at. Even Hans Zimmer’s vibrantly traditional score from the first film has been replaced by the sort of overbearing musical onslaught we thought he’d left behind in the 90s.

So where did it all go wrong?

I’m not sure, but the move from 1.85:1 aspect ratio to 2.40:1 doesn’t help in providing visual continuity or the intimate humour from the first film. This one feels distant, detached and cold. Strange, really, considering the main visual creative team is the same.

So, adding to this step down in audio/visual quality some forgettable actors, characters, plot devices and action sequences things aren’t looking great at all for A Game Of Shadows.

But within the mess, somewhere, is a much better film. The midsection lost my attention so completely that by the end I neither knew nor cared what was happening (not because it was complicated but because it was boring), however the start and end were enjoyable and only served to make me lament what might have been. Could the midsection be trimmed down to its bare plot essentials? Could Hans Zimmer replace his score with something more in keeping with what he gave us in the first instalment? Could someone tweak the colour grading digitally to brighten the tone and give it the vibrancy of its predecessor?

If there’s a third instalment I sincerely hope the producers realise where they went wrong with A Game Of Shadows and pull the series back into a more fun, lean and colourful line.

This one simply gets it wrong.

Desperate Hours (1990) – film review

I haven’t seen this film since probably I was a teenager, but it’s amazing how much of it (certain shots and camera moves in particular) that I remember from back then in great detail. I was also quite nervous about coming back to it, mainly due to my concern that, being older and wiser now, I’d simply hate it.

How wrong I was.

I’m a little guilt-ridden for having never seen the 1955 William Wyler directed original and still cherishing what critics usually tend to dismiss and history, it seems, has done likewise; but as a fan of overwrought, over-the-top and over confident curiosities I can’t help but find this remake mesmerising.

After the disaster of Heaven’s Gate reminded the world why directors need to shoot the odd close-up, Michael Cimino had some work to do to regain the confidence of a film industry he almost single-handedly tore down. What emerged was Year of the Dragon, The Sicilian and Desperate Hours – three smaller scale films that condensed Cimino’s fondness for visual flair, epic scale and theatrical acting into enjoyable but sadly forgotten gems.

Even though I’ve got a sincere soft spot for this tale of a group of violent criminals on the run taking a bickering family hostage, I’d warn anyone approaching it for the first time to leave their sensible hats at the door, because it’s a film riddled with ham-fisted dialogue, unconvincing characters, bizarre coincidences and gaping plot holes that beggar belief, but in the same breath entertain mercilessly.

If you can find a reason why Mickey Rourke decides to hole-up in suburbia for the night instead of safely hiding under a bridge in the countryside somewhere, or why Lindsay Crouse is so wonderfully bolshy and bad tempered all throughout the film, or why the police back in 1990 had all the intelligence and subtlety of a piano falling down a flight of stairs then you’re much smarter than me.

But amidst the harmless stupidity, extreme violence and high suspense there are elegant and poignant pauses of peace and natural beauty shot with grace by cinematographer Douglas Milsome, moments that really set it apart from the rest. The thundering orchestral score by David Mansfield racks up the tension from start to finish but also knows when to back off to give the audience a breather. The editing by Christopher Rouse compliments Cimino’s direction admirably, cutting off all the fat and keeping this a lean piece of suspenseful cinema without a single unnecessary frame left on screen.

I’d recommend watching this as part of a triple bill along with Martin Scorcese’s Cape Fear remake and Paul Verhoeven’s Basic Instinct for a great night of shameless, ridiculous cinema that’ll make you lament for the lost art of using camera tracks instead of steadycams.

Best bit: Anthony Hopkins literally taking out the trash.

Sadly we’ve not had a film from Cimino since 1996’s The Sunchaser and I’ve got a terrible feeling we never will… but that won’t stop me from hoping.

Come on, Michael, pull one last masterpiece out of the bag!

Sheffield Pride 2013

I went to my first ever Pride event yesterday, which took place in Sheffield city centre. They’d had others in the past, but never in such a public space, which is probably why I’d been reluctant to go. I mean, it just doesn’t seem very proud being hidden away in some dingy suburban park where nobody can see you being proud.

Isn’t visibility the whole point of these things? The answer is “yes”.

I went with my girlfriend and two lesbian friends, who are partners, and we had an absolute blast! It was way too hot, at least for my liking, but fortunately it did mean that there were loads of lush topless lads for me to ogle. This did not make my girlfriend nervous at all.

Much.

There was a series of stalls in Barker’s Pool, a square in front of the city hall, that opened for business early on in the day. It received a lot of attention and the stalls seemed to have a diverse range of things to check out. Sadly, none of these things interested me. I did enjoy the fact that the council had rigged the square’s fountains to spout pink water, which was a very nice touch indeed.

Later in the afternoon, there was a lively parade from the square through the student/boutique-laden Devonshire Quarter to the popular Devonshire Green events space, where there was live music for the rest of the day.

We joined in with the parade, much to my shy hesitation, and had the local and national news take pictures and video footage of us. If you can spot us somewhere on television or online, then please do let me know. I’m the fat one wearing a black baseball cap, a folded-up white blind cane, and waving a rainbow flag. Don’t worry, I’m sure I was the only person waving a rainbow flag.

Ha! As if.

We didn’t stay for the later music event, mostly due to it being just so hot, which I sort-of regret now. It was one of the very rare occasions where I actually fancied a dance. My inhibitions had completely dissipated by that point, thanks to a glorious natural high.

I really enjoyed showing my face and having a laugh with friends, especially amongst such a lovely, colourful, and caring group of people. It really felt great being part of something that brought so many people together. It was also nice to see parents bringing along their children to join in with the festivities, as it made the whole thing feel even more chilled-out and progressive.

Hatred is learned, not born with.

Whether it did to other people or not, for me it really felt like a landmark event for the Sheffield LGBT community. And for me as a proud bisexual male.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

2026 UPDATE: My girlfriend and I eventually split up in 2016, due to me also coming out as transgender, which she found too difficult to come to terms with. She tragically passed away in 2022 from heart failure, although we remained close friends until the end. I miss her very much. She was my soulmate. Our two lesbian friends also split up, although I am still in daily contact with one of them. Sadly, she now lives too far away for us to regularly meet and gossip, but the image of her warm smile is always in my heart.

The Star Wars Trilogy (radio series)

I was quite nervous in approaching this radio series (recorded in 1981, 1983 and 1996 respectively, with Return of the Jedi apparently taking so long to finally tape due to a financial dispute) as I was in fear of how the Americans handle and take seriously their radio dramas. I’ve been used to listening to fine dramatisations by the BBC recently, so this felt sure to be quite a novel experience for me.

Much to my relief all three series were directed by skilled British helmer John Madden (Mrs Brown, Shakespeare In Love) and so this adaptation stands out as a fine piece of radio broadcasting, successfully delivering exciting adventure and romance to the best of the medium’s ability much like its cinematic counterparts.

The production company was able to use John Williams’ original score (even parts that didn’t feature in the films) and Ben Burtt’s sound effects, thanks to a charitable Lucasfilm who apparently only charged a peppercorn licensing fee, therefore the quality of this adaptation is immediately given a fighting chance of satisfying the fans.

Whereas The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi are given more straightforward adaptations and never veer too far off course, A New Hope is expanded upon greatly, especially during its first third. We’re treated to the unseen events that led up to the classic opening shot in the film of the Star Destroyer chasing the Blockade Runner, including an explanation of Darth Vader’s line “You weren’t on any mercy mission, this time!” that we didn’t realise we needed and some very dramatic incidents on Alderaan. Return of the Jedi is improved upon slightly by moving the introduction of Darth Vader until after our heroes have finished on Tatooine. In the film there was an expectation to visually start on a certain beat with a Star Destroyer cruising through space, plus there was a story requirement to setup the routine of the Empire’s shuttle docking security procedure that ends up being an integral part of our heroes’ plans later on, but on radio the writers clearly made the decision to have a more honest beginning with a conclusion to the events that ended The Empire Strikes Back.

As a person who’s perhaps a little overly familiar with the film series (along with many people my age) these additional expanded scenes took me out of my comfort zone and forced me to concentrate and follow the storyline for the first time since, well, the day I first sat down to watch the original film trilogy, which was a real gift.

The other tricky thing with over familiarity with something like this is getting used to your favourite lines of dialogue either being changed, omitted or being said in a slightly different way to what you’re used to, sometimes even by the same actor. But you get used to that and, well, the originals are all still there (oh, wait… that is, if you’re lucky enough to have the pre-Special Edition versions) for stress relief.

Fortunately for us we get a very strong cast to guide us through the proceedings, on the whole. Mark Hamill, Anthony Daniels and Billy Dee Williams were good enough sports to turn up and go way beyond the call of duty in delivering sterling audio interpretations of their onscreen roles. Hamill, in particular, shows us that he’s far more comfortable as a voice actor than a movie star, with his magnificent work here serving as an indicator of a successful future career as a voice-over artist to come. I’d even go so far as to say that Hamill’s performance here is better than what we get on film, so kudos to him. Daniels is pitch perfect in reprising his role as C3PO and was generous enough to turn up thirteen years later to finish off what he’d started on A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back (with Hamill being replaced by a perfectly acceptable Joshua Fardon and Billy Dee Williams passing on the baton to Arye Gross).

Of the non-film series regulars the best is, without a doubt, Ann Sachs as Princess Leia. Whilst she doesn’t quite have the same youthful spunkiness that made Carrie Fisher’s performance so immortal, Sachs manages to convey the character’s more passionate and politically charged sides; so whilst neither actress is better than the other, I’d say that they were both able to deliver equally successful but unique spins on the same character.

Brock Peters, who served quite a bit of time on Star Trek (including The Voyage Home and The Undiscovered Country), makes a very menacing Darth Vader, although he can never quite delve to the depths of James Earl Jones’ bass rumblings, but he does the best he can with his naturally lighter voice. You can’t be too critical, though, as how many people out there can impersonate James Earl Jones?

Bernard Behrens has the very difficult task of taking the reigns from Alec Guinness as Obi-Wan Kenobi and does an outstanding job. But, of course, one can only try to be as great as Guinness, and Behrens tries very hard indeed and brilliantly evokes the pool of strength and wisdom that Obi-Wan needed to be.

Now the voice I was most worried about was John Lithgow as Yoda. I love Lithgow, but I just couldn’t see where he’d take the character or even if he’d be able to do the voice at all. Thankfully I had nothing to fear as Lithgow is fantastic, in fact you can’t tell it’s him at all through his scenes in The Empire Strikes Back. It’s only during Yoda’s death scene in Return of the Jedi, where he’s having to balance a convincing imitation of Frank Oz with a realistic performance of someone coming to their end, that his Lithgow-isms finally reveal themselves.

And so we come to Perry King as Han Solo. Well. I’m going to be very generous and say that his Solo is perhaps more in keeping with the seedy gambling space smuggler that the character was designed to be, only without the dead-pan charisma and charm that Harrison Ford so effortlessly pumped into the role. King can only struggle to be a ghost of what might have been had Ford agreed to slum it on radio, but his delivery still becomes fun and entertaining once you get used to it and, like Sachs, provides a different take on a much beloved character… just nowhere near as successful. And that’s all I shall say on the matter.

Beyond the actual main body of the drama my only real complaint is that the closing credit sequences for each series seem to take forever, with bafflingly long pieces of Williams’ score playing long after the announcer has finished speaking. In fact, on Return of the Jedi in particular, they feel almost like half the runtime of the actual main drama. I don’t mind these credit sequences being left in, as those who were involved deserve recognition, but they could have at least trimmed them down a bit or stuck them on separate tracks so that the listener has the option to delete them from their playlist. But this is a fairly minor technical gripe.

So if you love Star Wars and want a different and expanded take on familiar events or how they’re delivered then I highly recommend investing in this fantastic boxset. Although, as an aside, I would say that if, like me, you buy radio dramas to listen to in bed at night to help you drift off to sleep then I wouldn’t recommend it solely for that purpose, as it’s far too exciting and stimulating to settle you down… you’ll be prancing around your bedroom fighting imaginary Stormtroopers instead of counting sheep!

Yes, it’s that good.

P.S. If you don’t giggle at the sound of Princess Leia’s bucking bronco showdown with Jabba The Hutt on the sail barge then you’re simply not human…. “JABBA-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A!”

Dune (1965 novel)

I don’t have enough fingers on both hands to count the amount of times I’ve tried reading Frank Herbert’s weighty 1965 ecological science fiction tome and not gotten past the first few chapters. I think the problem’s been my over familiarity and fondness for the David Lynch film adaptation which, whilst being frowned upon by many, is still in my top ten favourite films list after all these years.

So is the book startlingly different? Not really, which has been the biggest surprise for me. Would I recommend it to a friend? Probably not, it can be as clinical as a reference book without the factual hook to keep you riveted.

This is my second but first successful listen to the audiobook edition (after many paperback attempts), which mixes a straight reading with sporadic use of a supporting cast of character vocalisations (I’m guessing the extra actors only appear during the portions of the recording meant for the abridgement). I wisely opted for downloading the unabridged version onto my MP3 player rather than listening to the tapes, thereby forcing myself to concentrate in bed at night without the usual daytime distractions. I just couldn’t imagine myself ever getting through the print/e-book edition and I wanted to say that I’d read it, in whatever form, from cover to cover at least once before I died.

So, twenty years after my first try, it’s done.

One thing I really did like about Herbert’s writing style is how each chapter feels like the act of a stage play. They’re all very self contained and rounded at the edges. There aren’t great stretches of time passing or lengthy travelogues (these happen “off screen”, as it were); each chapter is set generally in one place and in one timeframe. The characters walk on, they talk/fight/think and they exeunt. It’s a very focused and direct way of delivering a narrative and might also be described as mimicking a string of short stories stitched together to create an anthology.

It’s worth arguing that history has mistakenly taken the main character of Dune to be Paul Atreides, however his mother, Jessica, shares just as much of the narrative, if not more, and her story is perhaps even more emotionally compelling than her son’s.

There have been complaints about the fact that the only homosexual character in the novel is the villain, but the book doesn’t imply that he’s bad because of his homosexuality. In fact there’s a matter-of-fact way in which his same-sex relations are discussed that is actually quite refreshing, although this may just be my interpretation. I sort of felt that if the bad guys can be cool about being gay then there’s hope for the good guys.

The book feels quite topically current, too, with it’s central story arc involving Caucasian capitalists attempting to ingratiate themselves and ultimately dominate/control a seemingly feral (but underestimated) desert dwelling race who have control over a politically powerful substance.

But beyond it’s space opera overtones it’s undertones are it’s strongest. This is a book about the brutal rites and rituals of a community surviving in a merciless environment and the perception of uninitiated outsiders that their violent but necessary customs are a form of madness.

Arrakis is said to train the faithful. Frank Herbert’s Dune, I think it’s safe to say, will train and reward the patient. Unlike it’s scorched and waterless titular planet the novel lacks warmth; and yet literately it can be as dangerously dry as it’s encompassing deserts.

I’m glad I finally got to the end though. I can see where people disagreed with the Lynch adaptation, but I can also appreciate why certain things were changed and compressed to make an entertaining mainstream movie. There’s only perceived fantasy in Dune the novel, whereas Dune the film takes it one step further to the mystical beyond.

The History of Titus Groan (2011 radio series)

I’d never heard of Mervyn Peake or of Gormenghast until William Gibson name-checked him on Twitter the other week as the closest thing he’d read to Tolkien. Being a curious sort I began doing some research and, after learning more, found it strange that a work of fantasy could involve none of the standard elements of the fantasy genre (monsters and magic and such). Peake’s Gormenghast novels are generally described as a “fantasy of manners” – a definition I couldn’t quite get my head around, so rather than starting on a book that I might not enjoy I looked into it’s numerous adaptations, in particular this very recent radio series from the good old chaps at the BBC.

In some ways I wish I hadn’t dug deeper. I wish I’d stayed clear where the world was much lighter.

But not in all ways.

This is a very disturbing and unsettling piece. If it’s faithful to the books then I’d say that Peake’s work is more Dickens than Tolkien, and not really fantasy at all. It's a turbulent cauldron of intentionally disorientating anachronisms; a jumble of time and space where nothing and nowhere is quite what or where it seems.

It’s a descent and an ascent into and out of madness.

It’s also bloody hard work, I know that for sure.

This six part dramatisation addresses the three completed novels of Peake’s planned ongoing series (that abruptly ended with some rough notes for a fourth and fifth novel scribbled almost indecipherably by Peake on his death bed) with two episodes for each book. It definitely feels like it’s aiming to capture the period drama fetishists with it’s bouncing score and inexplicable focus on inconsequential subplots involving social gatherings. But aside from this occasional (and perhaps understandable) pandering to the mainstream it’s a very unique, absorbing and compulsive listen.

The cast is very strong (with a few familiar voices here and there), although if you’re new to the Gormenghast universe like I am then it may take a while to fix on who exactly is who. It’s also narratively very loose, so concentration is required, especially with the florid narration and dialogue.

The main enjoyment I got out of this was a masochistic one. I often gleefully wondered just how much of it I could take. It’s an inky black experience that always threatens to plummet deeper into tragedy and despair without hope of a cheery reprise. It’s a roll call of one vile, deceitful, morally bankrupt character after another, all of whom leave you wondering who’s going to betray who next.

It’s an uncomfortable listen, but after finishing each episode in bed at night my mind was racing and I couldn’t get to sleep. I wanted to turn away from it’s gothic gloom but somehow I remained riveted just to see what happened next. It’s punishing but compelling.

Perhaps an apt summation of it’s tone would be to say that if it were made into a film it would most likely fall into the hands of Terry Gilliam (although secretly I'd like to see David Lynch give it a Dune-style retelling). It’s very Brazil in places.

Plus one hint/warning as to how dark the story gets is that David Warner features as the narrator (alongside the lovely Luke Treadaway).

Oh, David, so many people die in such weird and horrible ways when you’re involved (Straw Dogs, The Omen, Cross of Iron, Time After Time, Time Bandits, Tron, Star Trek VI, Titanic), don’t they? Bless.

I’m not sure whether this radio series has made me want to read Peake’s original books or not. I’m certainly curious to learn more about the Gormenghast traditions and rituals which this adaptation strangely leaves unaddressed (but makes it the central motivator for the titular character’s actions in the later episodes). But if it is as disturbing and traumatic as this radio series then I’m not sure that I want to invest that much time in it.

We shall see.

I’m certainly half tempted to try out the television adaptation which was made back in 2000.