Bopping with Niall JP O'Leary

Puncture

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 00:38:00 +0000

Initially 'Puncture' appears to be yet another reworking of 'The Verdict'; a washed up lawyer goes up against the might of the medical establishment in pursuit of justice and redemption. But there are some not altogether nice surprises in store for the unwary viewer.
Mark Weiss (Chris Evans playing well against type), is a lawyer in need of redemption. Instead of a drunk (like Paul Newman's character in the earlier film), Weiss is a womanising junkie. When a nurse contracts AIDS after an accidental infection from a syringe, she asks him to tackle hospitals, and the huge medical supplies provider behind them, about their refusal to adopt safety needles, a simple measure that would prevent further accidents. But as the big lawyers line up in opposition, his wife leaves him and his addiction becomes more crippling. All this while his pragmatic partner tries to pay their mounting bills.
So far 'Puncture' seems to be following the traditional three act structure, hitting its plot points on cue, just as 'The Verdict', a model of the classic Hollywood narrative, did before it. However, as the film progresses and the level of Weiss's addiction becomes apparent, bewilderment starts to set in. This man is beyond redemption; he can barely function. And yes, the movie should dip in the second act, but this much? And shouldn't things start to take an upward swing as we enter the third act? It all seems too dark. How the hell can they possibly win?
It is at this point that I should have remembered those printed words at the start: 'Based on a true story'. Truth may not always be stranger than fiction, but it can be darker. As the key phrase of the movie puts it, 'sometimes the brightest light comes from the darkest places'.
Most of the darkness , it has to be said, originates with the 'good' guys. In fact the bad guys are pretty standard fare. We have the clichéd 'something must be done' scenes with grim faced corporate types in dark offices, but nothing original. Only a refreshingly cynical speech by the main defence lawyer towards the end gives anything other than one-dimensionality to these traditional forces of darkness. Nope, Weiss's main enemy is himself, even accepting the implication the movie makes towards the end.
Luckily the film's main strength is in its depiction of its self-destructive protagonist and it is probably least convincing when we see him pull himself together. One way or the other, Chris Evans does himself no disservice in the role. If he doesn't quite wring a Travis Bickle like intensity from his material, he doesn't stoop to making himself uncomplicatedly likable either. The rest of the largely unshowy cast are fine too, though Michael Biehn is wasted as an ambiguous lurker in the background.
In the end, 'Puncture' reneges on its promise of courtroom fireworks. Unlike 'The Verdict', the legal battle ultimately takes second place to the personal, though not before we have been drawn into the former. It thus proves frustrating, ending where we might expect the real story to begin. This doesn't mean it fails though, for aggravating though Weiss appears, he ultimately wins some level of admiration, regardless of how unrealistic is the final course the film attributes to him. He intrigues us and his well placed sense of justice inspires. In short he wins his psychological case, persuading us the jury that he is worth our emotional investment.
No barrel of laughs, and no rousing David and Goliath courtroom drama neither, 'Puncture' ultimately succeeds in its heart-felt affirmation of justice and its celebration of a flawed individual.

Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 23:49:00 +0000

Yes, the action sequences are well-handled, and yes, it is a popcorn movie, but isn't 'Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol' just a bit too silly? As sparkling and shallow as Tom Cruise's smile, and probably about as annoying.

Margin Call

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 23:27:00 +0000

Although it purports to give an insight into the financial crisis of recent years, 'Margin Call', unlike the similarly themed 'Too Big to Fail', wraps its moralising up in a fictional tale of greed and deceit. It is more concerned with showing the psychology of the protagonists in that disaster than chronicling the processes at work. While this might be original, this has weaknesses as well as strengths. For one, it's difficult to really care about the pain some of these characters experience when we are all far better acquainted with the after effects in our own lives. Afterall, fictional or not, when these people lose their jobs, they leave with multi-million dollar bonuses. Boo hoo.
'Margin Call' also suffers from what I can only presume is a theatrical origin. It is riddled with two-hander scenes of 'pithy' dialogue. Everything happens in banal rooms, or the back seats of taxis, or the front steps of buildings. Considering the impressive cast - Kevin Spacey, Paul Bethany, Demi Moore, Jeremy Irons, Stanley Tucci, to name a few - this can provide its own pleasures. But it does give a hermetically sealed quality to the proceedings. Considering the huge effects of the financial crash on the outside world, it all seems too limited when simply discussed by a couple of smart, wealthy people.
Interesting, but not nearly as biting as it thinks itself to be.

The Artist

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 23:26:00 +0000

And speaking of movies that just work, 'The Artist' WORKS!

Moneyball

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 23:12:00 +0000

It's a bit of a cliché to talk about how baseball tends to inspire good movies. But it does (consider 'The Natural', 'Field of Dreams, 'Eight Men Out'). 'Moneyball' supports the cliché. Telling how statistics helped the Oakland Athletics get their mojo back, it, like its all-rounder hero, Billy Beane (Brad Pitt), performs exceptionally well in all areas of the game. Admittedly there is a lot of baseball, and yes, statistics, and I am not a sports fan, let alone a baseball fan, but it works. Brad Pitt and Jonah Hill are exceptional as the two men determined to upset the sports apple cart (it often plays as a buddy movie). The screenplay by Steven Zaillian and Aaron Sorkin is rock solid. Bennett Miller's direction never flags, despite plenty of stodgy sports opportunities to do so. Then to cap everything Michael Danna's Elliot-Goldenthal-esque score adds a large chunk of class. They're the elements of the game, but the playing - the mix of romanticism and hard-edged pragmatism - gives you all the thrills of the 'last chance to get it right' story, while never allowing you to forget the realities that swallow the dreams.
It just works, okay? It just works.

Weary, Woeful Wheatley

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 23:34:00 +0000

Reading wise I had to give up Dennis Wheatley's "The Haunting of Toby Jugg". With an interest in the horror genre I feel it is incumbent on me to try out such writers, but there's only so much I can take. A right-wing polemic full on nauseating jingoism and anti-semitism. Bear in mind that this book is set during the Second World War in Britain; the only Jewish character is an amoral Communist spy working for Russia and trying to marry an British Labour party member in order to infiltrate Government. On top of this the story is dull, predictable and, considering it is supposedly a horror novel, distinctly lacking in scares. Indeed the strapping airman at the centre of the story (an heir to a multimillion pound empire no less), a man used to facing death a hundred times over in the air, spends the book in mortal fear of a shadow! The villain of the piece is just short of twirling his moustache. All in all a dreadful piece of claptrap. I stopped halfway through and have now started a novel by Norman Mailer.
Just to show I was trying to give Wheatley a chance, I also watched a little known Hammer film adapted from another of his novels, "The Lost Continent". Borrowing from Hodgson, Haggard, Doyle and a host of other turn of the century fantasists, it is the worst mishmash of seafaring junk I've ever had the misfortune not to throw up over. Avoid!

The Elephant's Graveyard

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 23:29:00 +0000

I was visiting my sick grandfather in Vincent's Hospital tonight. Buying a few things for him in the nearby supermarket brought back a lot of unhappy memories of similar visits to similarly sick relatives, gone now. I dread that place. Shopping for ivory on the way to the graveyard.

Tools for Change

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 23:23:00 +0000

Eamonn Gilmore gave a rousing speech on how technology is revolutionising politics. Social media, multimedia, mobile media and the wealth of new communication methods make it essential for a modern Government to conduct its business with a fresh attitude and an open engagement with its tech savvy citizens. No longer can we depend on the basics; a minister must be innovative! During the question and answers session he was asked what technologies his office used. "Email and um, text."

Democracy in Action

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 23:20:00 +0000

I was at a conference on International Affairs last Friday. As the Tanaiste, Eamonn Gilmore, got up to give the opening speech, a student raised a paper placard protesting about student fees. He was escorted quietly to the door by a garda and then forcibly evicted from the building. The theme of the conference was Democracy in the modern world.

Ken Russell RIP

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Mon, 28 Nov 2011 09:42:00 +0000

The film director, Ken Russell, has died aged 84. A lot of people will talk about the bad he's done, some about the good, but he was always his own director and one of the wild ones. I believe the world is a far poorer place for his passing.

Wow!

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 02:36:00 +0000

Really sorry for not recognising this sooner, but I just saw I have 'followers'! That's incredible! Anyway Annabelle, Peter and Petra, thanks!

Dublin Contemporary 2011

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 23:51:00 +0000

Dublin Contemporary was a nice way to while away a wet Sunday afternoon. Certainly a lot to see and a great deal of invention in the exhibition itself, let alone the art works. A good use of Earlsfort Terrace and I must confess to enjoying it a lot more than IMMA.

Broken Egos

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 22:57:00 +0000

My poor brother broke his arm fairly nastily at soccer. I went to the hospital following his operation to find that he is on the up; as well as could be expected anyhow. In fact it might just be the drugs, but he seemed upbeat. While I was there the night nurse came in to introduce herself. 'So you must be his father...." I'm three years older than him. I left him a little more upbeat.

Viennese Zombie Cows

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Mon, 17 Oct 2011 21:45:00 +0000

I was in Vienna a week or so back and took the opportunity to further my culinary adventures. Having convinced the waitress to read me the German menu rather than saddling me with the English one, I ordered and ate calves' liver dumplings in beef broth and then calves' brains. Cooked with eggs, you know they had to taste like scrambled eggs, and they did, though very delicately. I followed it up with some dumplings laced with ricotta in a berry sauce ('It is not what you have in your imagination...,' I was told when I jumped at the hint it was like a cheesecake). Perfectly edible. I enjoyed my Viennese fare. Great city, too.

A Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylinder

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Sun, 16 Oct 2011 23:45:00 +0000

I've also recently read James De Mille's 'A Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylinder'. Claiming to be a castaway's account of a trip to a lost civilisation at the South Pole, it is also a clever satire (as most of these tales are; consider Butler's 'Erewhon'), on Western Civilisation. In this lost world, the locals are kind, considerate, selfless and completely in love with death, so much so that sacrifice and cannibalism are considered the highest honours. Only a few radicals believe that selfishness, greed and exploitation are the true, noble aims of life.
Written in 1888, it makes a heavy nod at Edgar Allen Poe, but, though coming after Verne, apparently still anticipates much that was written by Burroughs, Haggard and Doyle (this Antarctica features dinosaurs and Moas as well as cannibals and pyramids). As if in apology for its sentimental aspects, De Mille frames the whole tale by having the manuscript read aloud by a motley group of dilettantes on an aristocrat's yacht. One of their number insists on critiquing the manuscript as if it was a fiction, pointing out its sensationalism and absurdity, while the others supply the science behind its authenticity.
All of this is admirable and entertaining. Sadly the hero, the English sailor Adam More, is a pessimistic, often cowardly, and very often overly submissive fool, making it very hard to care for his adventures, even with the framing critique highlighting his double standards. Indeed, De Mille is trying to give us a rip-roaring adventure, a healthy dose of anthropology, biology and linguistics, and a sly, self-conscious black comedy that highlights the dangers of a first person narrative; all at the same time. It is incredibly ambitious, and were he to have achieved all his aims, he would be regarded as one of the best writers of his generation. Suffice to say he is not. However, there is no doubt of his importance in the development of the science fiction genre, and for that alone, this is worth a read.

Wise Blood

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Sun, 16 Oct 2011 23:28:00 +0000

Just to say I finished Flannery O'Connor's first novel and masterpiece. It is notable how she keeps you close enough to her grotesque characters to think you're inside their heads, but actually just enough outside to surprise you. Then you think, yes, well, that does make sense. Dark, funny, and cold as Hell, with a small, warm heart beating somewhere within the ice.
For completeness I also watched John Huston's film adaptation again. I saw it years ago, and always remembered Brad Dourif playing Hazel Motes. This time around his relatively over-heated, one-note performance didn't impress me as much. Ironically he plays it as it is, and the film is generally very faithful to the book. Updating it to the Seventies didn't lose anything, but instead showed how relevant the whole nasty tale still is for America. However, the dreadful score by Alex North highlights the slightly off-key tone that the film makers adopted and that ultimately loses a lot of the book's power. The characters are not just the grotesques that the film portrays; they are warped, but real people, struggling for meaning, companionship and love. Ultimately the film works, but as soon often is the case, the novel works on a higher, finer plane.

Midnight in Paris

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Sun, 16 Oct 2011 22:52:00 +0000

'Midnight in Paris' is Woody Allen's latest, so there is no real need to summarise it. It has a group of rich people playing straight man to an Allen-esque neurotic artist in a beautiful city. Hhhhmmmm. Is it any good?
There is a genuine sense of warmth about the whole enterprise that has been lost from Allen's movies in latter years. You feel like he really cares about his subject matter, ie. Paris of the Twenties. It probably helps for me that I share his affection, but there is a nice thrill seeing Hemingway, Stein, the Fitzgeralds, etc. brought to life. For a while at any rate. Pretty soon, with no real belly laughs to distract you, it can all seem like name dropping ('Oh, look there's Djuna Barnes!'). I mean will anyone really split a side at Owen Wilson giving Bunuel the plot of 'The Exterminating Angel'? On the plus side, Owen Wilson makes one of the best Woody surrogates in a long time, Cotillard draws the camera, and Adrian Brody makes a memorable Dali. The rest of the cast spout their lines as needed, but with little real conviction or dimension.
Just an observation, but Allen does not use many close ups, at least not to convey real emotion. There is one of Wilson as his predicament dawns on him, but this is too broad to convey any subtlety. Another is of Cotillard, but really only to show how pretty she is. In fact when I think of Allen's movies, even the serious ones, this is almost a trademark and probably explains why I see him as rarely emotionally intense. He flits across the surface using quips and farce to distract us from the basic shallowness of his people games. Even 'Hannah and Her Sisters' features a man (Caine) in lust, not love, and the really serious films play, well, like plays. Which is not to say plays are without emotion, just that they are performed at a distance. Allen plays at a distance.
Yes, this is a glib analysis, but I think it says something that the most emotional close shot I can remember is also in one of Allen's more successful films, 'Manhattan', as he sees his 'true' love for who she is just as he must let her go.
Anyhow 'Midnight in Paris' has no real emotional depth and no real, deep insight, but it does ring more authentically than many another Allen film when you sound it for emotion. Granted it is the love of the director not any of the characters, but it is a feeling I can appreciate nevertheless. Guess he's just good with cities.

Don't Be Afraid of the Dark

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Sun, 16 Oct 2011 22:27:00 +0000

Telling the story of a young girl going to a new home, a new parent and coming into contact with mythological beings, featuring a maze and with the name Guillermo del Toro attached, you might be forgiven for thinking 'Don't Be Afraid if the Dark' is a remake of 'Pan's Labyrinth'. It's not. It's a remake of a 70's TV movie that had me sleepless for months after I saw it (right up there with 'Salem's Lot'). Though that earlier film scared the Cadbury's Creme Eggs out of me, no one could accuse it of a high budget or lofty aspirations, both of which this version has. I mean use the hallowed name of Arthur Machen, give your beasties a persuasive history, model them on the drawings of Arthur Rackham, and stick them in a wonderful old, dark house, and you must have a winner, right?
Sadly, no. I appreciate what the movie was striving for, but the back story involving tooth fairies(!) and the netherworld adds nothing to an otherwise run-of-the-mill, not to mention mechanical, horror. The direction tries to be fancy, but forgets to build tension, and very little is made of the classic 'they won't believe me' dynamic that the original made so much of. Clichés like the knowledgeable old retainer, the boarded up cellar, and the dark history gradually discovered, are trotted out like disinterred ancestors caught rolling in their graves. And for all they look like creatures from Faerie, the CGI monsters are too obviously 'animated' to really terrify. The original had guys in furry suits wearing Doomlord masks. They would hide behind out-sized furniture and set wicked little traps. But hell, did they terrify me! All the budget and knowledge of the genre has done is blunt that crude, but sharp blade.
Nothing about this unfortunate movie can hold a flickering candle to the original. Don't be afraid of the dark, but don't go to it either.

Season of the Witch

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Sun, 16 Oct 2011 22:23:00 +0000

The Nicholas Cage film, not the Romero one, and ain't that the pity. A pile of junk. If you want to watch how this kind of thing should be done watch the low budget Sean Bean film, 'Black Death'.

Drive

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Sun, 16 Oct 2011 22:08:00 +0000

Take the style of Michael Mann when he's actually being good, the moral darkness of Schrader (think 'Taxi Driver', 'American Gigolo'), and a good dollop of 'Shane' and you have 'Drive', a.k.a. the movie that's too cool for school. Slap on a cracking 80s style score by the likes of The Chromatics, and things start bubbling. Then add a confident Ryan Gosling, amiable Bryan Cranston and the always sleazy Ron Perlman, oh, and who's that? - well, who would have thought it, Albert Brooks as a convincing psycho (actually there's a lot of them about in this movie, including the 'hero') - and things just get better and better. If only Carey Mulligan would stop smiling in three different ways and actually act (I'd pay a lot to see her actually play angry for instance), we might have the perfect movie. Actually no, we wouldn't, because despite all that coolness - and this film fairly drips with it - there is actually nothing here that you haven't seen before. In fact a lunatic French guy behind me in the cinema claimed to prefer 'Man on Fire' (avec Denzel Washington) when it finished (I think I could smell his socks through the movie, the stinking French bastard's, not Denzel Washington's). Yes, it was similar to 'Man on Fire', among many other movies, though less so than most, but just because it's been done before doesn't mean it's been done better and this does it pretty damn well. 'Man on Fire', my ass! Anyhow though I too have seen this all before I did really like watching it all again. Though I kind of missed a little kid at the end crying 'Shane, Shane....' Probably wouldn't have been very cool though....

Perfect Sense

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Thu, 13 Oct 2011 21:04:00 +0000

You don't know what you've got till it's gone.
The premise of David Mackenzie's 'Perfect Sense' is so high concept it's practically Hollywoodian, though the movie itself is very far from that. Around the world a strange ailment causes people to burst out crying in uncontrollable grief. When this crying fit passes the victim has lost their sense of smell. Sadly this is only the beginning of bad things happening which is bad news for young lovers Ewan McGregor and Eva Green.
The good points: Green is not the most expressive of actors, but she pushes herself a little here, while McGregor, playing a self-professed arsehole, is excellent. Max Richter's melancholy score reminds one of the days when Nyman wrote simple music for simple films; more Mr Richter, more. And despite being set in Glasgow, it looks well.
On the negative side, the script falls short, with a story that is perhaps too simplistic, following an easy trajectory too easily. Despite being an epidemiologist, Eva's doctor really sheds little light on the 'illness'. Yes, this isn't Hollywood, but still if you're going to have a gun on the mantelpiece, use it by the third act. From a character perspective, the lovers really don't deserve the sympathy that the actors win for them, both being self-professed arseholes. Their sometimes portentous repartee doesn't always help. So problems in the writing. Besides the screenplay though, and almost fatally, director Mackenzie doesn't always know when he's pushing things into absurdity. The sight of a three year old standing in a sweetshop in floods of tears (about to lose his sense of smell), is almost too unintentionally funny to get past. For some in the audience I saw the film with it was too much too early on and they left. Yes, Mackenzie makes some errors of judgement, but if you stick with it and buy into his obvious delight in the things that make life worth living, 'Perfect Sense' might just strike an emotional chord.
Recently Malick's 'Tree of Life' was a cinematic hymn to life; this, in its downbeat, secular way, is a paean to the senses. Despite its flaws - and they are many - it just about succeeds in its praise.
You should see it ...while you can.

Keeping Tabs

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Mon, 26 Sep 2011 23:20:00 +0000

Okay, to be expanded, but books in the last while:

A Mercy - Toni Morrison
Just couldn't get into it. I dislike fiction that tries to replicate a person's dialect (put me off Robert Louis Stevenson for quite a while after I read 'Thrawn Janet'), and the parts of the novel told by Florens aggravated me. Morrison tries to tell her (very simple) story through the stories of her characters and as an insight into 17th Century America, it has its interesting aspects. However, drawing similarities between slavery and indenture is hardly ground-breaking. For a more subtle analysis of the dynamics of slavery read Octavia Butler.

The Lathe of Heaven - Ursula Le Guin
Or Ursula Le Guin. The world is changed by put-upon George Orr's dreams, and things get tough when self-righteous psychiatrist, Dr Haber, gets his claws into him. Sounds like Philip K. Dick, but Le Guin has a discipline to her narrative that Dick rarely showed. Not that there ain't problems (I hate 'real world' prophecies, aliens and clichéd 'battle against the wind' endings), but there's far too much that's brilliant here not to be won over. Fine stuff.

Trouble Is My Business - Raymond Chandler
Just a novella, but Marlowe all the same. A routine muck-raking case escalates into a massacre in Chandler's inimitable way. Always passes the time.

Just reading Flannery O'Connor's 'Wise Blood' now. A novel of grotesques that spawned everything from 'Taxi Driver' to 'A Confederacy of Dunces', as far as I can see. I link O'Connor to Shirley Jackson in the way I might link Morrison to Butler, but I'm liking O'Connor a lot more than I did Morrison. I'll keep you posted.

Coincidence No.32

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Sat, 24 Sep 2011 16:12:00 +0000

Two references to Napoleon's tomb in two consecutive books (different authors, different genres) in the space of seven hours.

A Wee Bit of Culture

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Sat, 24 Sep 2011 00:03:00 +0000

Cherchez le Chat

nialljpoleary@gmail.com — Sun, 11 Sep 2011 21:39:00 +0000

As I entered my apartment block I noticed someone had posted a notice seeking their lost cat, with a picture of the black feline attached. I noted it and walked into the car park to be confronted by a black cat. To my mind she was a little bigger than the photo, but it was raining and her fur was shaggy so it could have been the missing cat, very probably was. I tried to get her to come to me, but it wasn't happening. I went back to get the phone number of the owner. There were two numbers but in both cases I got no answer. I left a garbled message. Naturally the cat was gone when I got back, but she could well have been hiding under a car. Just in case I got a small dish of milk and came back down to entice her to what? Stay still long enough to catch her and keep her for her owners? Just make sure she was fed? I left the milk down and fled embarrassed as more people came into the car park.