The Hunger Games, Mockingjay Part 1 review: Selling a revolution

As one of the most anticipated films of the year, the third installment in the unstoppable Hunger Games franchise packs a sharper and more intelligent punch than its predecessors, but suffers from the anticipation of the series's climax. While this self-aware media satire spends too long marketing a revolution that never really takes place, a typically indomitable performance from Jennifer Lawrence and some superb supporting roles help make Mockingjay Part 1 a solid entry in the biggest series around.

The Hunger Games has been driven underground, and the grey coldness of District 13 reflects on the film itself; this a darker and more tense picture far from the colour soaked cornucopias of old. Despite its setting in a dystopian future America, the film plays to relevant themes of the power of the media and advertising in its depiction of a revolution about to explode; much of the movie deals with the propaganda sparring between the rebels and the authoritarian Capitol. It's no exaggeration to say that the signature mockingjay pin has become an icon in pop culture, and director Francis Lawrence exploits this to the full by placing a sharp focus on the rebels' attempts to use the symbol to drum up support for their cause. It's a smart choice that's both aware of the current political climate and also aware of itself; that the rebel's propaganda videos share the look and tone of the film's trailer is no gimmick; the film is all the more authentic for such subtle touches. Lawrence is outstanding in a role of contradictions she's honed to perfection over her two years of playing Katniss, both unapproachably prickly and at times deeply moving. Her deliberate woodenness as she's coerced into starring in revolutionary propaganda clad in a Joan of Arc breastplate is a joy to behold and one of the film's best moments. As Effie Trinket squeals,"They'll either want to kill you, kiss you or be you".

Elizabeth Bank's wonderfully comic Effie is just one of several stellar supporting performances, with Woody Harrelson playing a more compassionate, if underused Haymitch and Donald Sutherland as the delightfully evil President Snow. The undisputed star of the supporting case though is the late Philip Seymour Hoffman as ex-gamesmaker Plutarch Heavensbee, a wonderful performance of deft mannerisms and soft wit. Quite how his untimely death will be accounted for in the final film remains to be seen, but he will certainly be missed. It's not all perfect however; fan's won't be pleased with revolutionary leader Coin becoming a lukewarm shadow of her brilliantly detestable role in the novel through the miscasting of  the usually fantastic Julianne Moore. And for all the inventive brilliance of the film's media portrayal, the decision to split the final book into two parts leads to a wildly inconsistent pace that makes a mockery of the movie's tone. The lack of the games themselves also leads to an increased demand for action which is never really satisfied; a few dramatic set pieces don't quite managed to fill the gap. While the two-film structure allows for a tremendous level of detail, it does nothing for the entertainment value of Part 1; too often it feels like a mere build up to next year's Part 2.

It's pace may stumble and it's all in anticipation of Part 2, but this clever satire, with its high level of detail and excellent cast performances, is a worthy third effort in The Hunger Games franchise.

7/10

The Imitation Game review: A moral enigma

As one of the most uncomfortable moments in recent British history, the life of Alan Turing has long proved a difficult topic for filmmakers. A brilliant Cambridge-educated mathematician, Turing is credited with dramatically shortening the length of the Second World War by deciphering the Enigma Code, the apparently unbreakable cipher used by the Germans to send vial military messages. However, Turing led a tragic post-war life, eventually driven to suicide by his prosecution for homosexuality by a police force ignorant of the achievements he was forced to keep secret. This new adaption may lack historical accuracy and is at times morally questionable, but it's a superbly watchable portrait of the life of one of the most remarkable and abused minds of the 20th century.  

Benedict Cumberbatch's portrayal of Turning is the driving force of The Imitation Game; there's a sense that not only is he the best actor for the role, but the only actor for it. An utterly narcissistic sociopath, Turing in many ways harks back to Cumberbatch's Sherlock; cocky, cold and calculated but prone to brief moments of warmth and tenderness. A thrilling script allows for moments of sharp comedy between Turing and his commander, Alastair Denniston (Charles Dance), with the mathematician painted as a fish out of water from his very first scenes on a train packed with evacuee children. Fortunately, a crisp approach to the film's chronology involving regular switching between Turing pre, post and during the war helps expose more of his character and prevents him from becoming the stock socially outcast genius, and Kiera Knightley's fellow codebreaker Joan Clarke plays her part in this too. The closeness between the two reveals previously unseen aspects of Turning's character, but Clarke isn't just a tool to further Cumberbatch's performance; Knightley plays her to brazenly funny perfection. Disappointingly the same can't be said for the rest of Turning's colleagues, who come off as dull cutouts, but in the end this is a film about the man himself and the performance behind him. 

However, a desire to enhance the dramatic effect of the quest to break Enigma has led to historical inaccuracies which rather undercut the film's various successes. One noticeable issue is Commander Denniston's unfair presentation as a bureaucratic monster, which seems an exceptionally desperate attempt at creating a villain (Hitler and the Nazis are seen only through occasional images of war-torn battlefields and newsreels). It may be pedantic, but the inaccuracies genuinely lessen the authenticity of the movie as a whole. Worse still is the puzzling lack of focus on Turing's homosexual feelings and relationships, with director Morten Tyldum preferring to devote screen time to the relationship between Turing and Clarke. While this could be argued as reflective of the exceptionally private nature of Turing's life, it's an overly safe move that makes Turing's eventual acknowledgement of his sexuality seem confusing and rather out of character. Tyldum makes another bizarre moral decision in the film's parting moments, his celebration of Turing's Royal Pardon contrasted with only small mention of the 49000 unpardoned gay men convicted of the same offence.

For all its moral moral issues, The Imitation Game is a brilliantly made film, a cautious pace building to giddy heights with the euphoria of the final defeat of Enigma. It's an impressively thrilling, funny and even moving film held together by a sublime performance from Benedict Cumberbatch. 

7/10

The 10 most wonderful films by Studio Ghibli

Since its conception almost 30 years ago, Studio Ghibli has taken on iconic status across the globe both for its profound anime masterpieces and the legends surrounding its visionary director Hayo Miyazaki. But with Miyazaki's retirement and the studio's recent announcement of a temporary halt in production, there's not been much for Ghibli fans to smile about since the release of The Wind Rises back in May. Bearing that in mind, here's my take on the 10 most wonderful films by Studio Ghibli. 

                                                      10. Porco Rosso (1992)
Telling the story of a famed fighter pilot turned bounty hunter, Porco Rosso certainly doesn't sound like traditional Ghibli fodder. Then comes Miyazaki's twist: a curse has transformed Porco into an anthropomorphic pig. Making intelligent use of the culture and politics of its interwar setting, the film is a brilliantly entertaining yarn, but also uses its bizarre premise to make genuine, touching observations on the human condition.

9. Whisper of the Heart (1995)

Ghibli's most perfect love story, Whisper of the Heart is a charming account of growing up told through the eyes of a 14-year old. Rather than overplaying the usual fantasy and mysticism, the film revels in its own (comparative) normality; Shizuku Tsukishima is an ordinary girl with a love of reading, a disapproving family and a crush on a boy who's moving away. It's perhaps the studio's most relatable movie, and a heartfelt plea to pursue your dreams rather than settle for the ordinary. 

8. The Wind Rises (2013)
For the emotional farewell to studio founder Hayo Miyazaki, the biopic of the inventor of the Mitsubishi "Zero Fighter" initially seemed a strange choice of subject matter. However, Jiro Horikoshi's increasing despair as the planes inspired by his love of exploration become tools for slaughter is a perfect canvas for Miyazaki. Returning once again to themes of nature versus industry, scenes of the blissful Japanese countryside are wickedly contrasted with the war's destruction to make the conflict all the more moving. 

7. Howl's Moving Castle (2004)
When the young Sophie is aged seventy years by an evil witch, she finds the legendary walking castle owned by Howl, the only wizard capable of returning her to youth. Making use of improved animation technology without abandoning Ghibli's hand-drawn roots, the film features some of the studio's most jaw-dropping art-particularly impressive is the moving castle itself; a colossal hulk of wheezing iron and escaping steam. Drawing inspiration from The Lord of the Rings, Alice in Wonderland and The Wizard of Oz, Howl is a rambling, expansive exploration in high fantasy. 


6. Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (1984)

Produced before Ghibli was even founded (but included in this list because the team behind it went on to found the studio), Nausicaä is remarkable in that it shares all of the morality, artistic vision and sheer beauty of the films Ghibli would go on to produce. Its story weaves the peaceful folk of The Valley of the Wind and their princess Nausicaä with an industrialized kingdom attempting to destroy a jungle of mutant insects; a thematically complex affair reflecting Miyazaki's already passionate environmental beliefs. As always with Ghibli films it's full of fantastic characters, but it's the sympathetic portrayal of the victimized insect Ohmu that stays longest in the mind. A startling intelligent anime, Nausicaä remains a gloriously thrilling picture while preaching its far-reaching messages. 

5. My Neighbor Totoro (1988)
The most wonderfully innocent of all Ghibli films (and perhaps films full stop), My Neighbor Totoro follows two young girls whose mother is recovering from a long-term illness. Lonely and confused, the pair's outdoor exploration leads them to discover the magical creatures living in the forest near their house led by Totoro, the spirit of the forest who appears in the form of an enormous rabbit-like animal. Fear turns quickly to joy as Totoro helps the girls overcome their sadness (the film is at times startlingly reflective and poignant) and rekindle their scattered relationships with their parents, all told through strangely comforting art and music. A film of indescribable beauty and perfection, Totoro launched Ghibli's name and has served as the studio's logo and mascot ever since. 


4. Castle in the Sky (1986)
Borrowing heavily from Gulliver's Travels, Castle in the Sky is a hugely funny and tremendously entertaining movie. Bringing together a girl, a boy, a magical amulet, a floating city, a sinister government and a host of undeniably likable and hilarious characters, the film has all the elements of the perfect fantasy blockbuster, and uses them to the full. Filled with spine tingling set pieces and explosive action sequences, you'd be forgiven for assuming that Ghibli's traditional beliefs were left at the roadside on this one, but that's not the case at all. In fact, Castle in the Sky is arguably superior to most Ghibli films in its presentation of the struggle between man and the environment in that it portrays technology and nature working in cohesion, nature stimulating invention while machines help to sustain the natural environment. And, for my money, its music (particularly its theme) is the best in any Ghibli film. 

3. Grave of the Fireflies (1988)
And now for something completely different. Grave of the Fireflies is a shockingly intense, utterly horrifying war film and is about as far from the usual Ghibli movie (and the usual war film) as it's possible to be. Rather than following the heroics of soldiers on the front line, the film presents a startling account of the lives of two Japanese children forced to cope with the loss of their parents, the threat of bombing raids and a constant battle with starvation during the final years of the Second World War. The usual Ghibli charm is totally absent here, it's a dark, brutally realistic portrait of the horrors of human conflict, but the studio's usual quality of animation, writing and direction makes it all the more powerful and frightening. For all Ghibli's belief in environmental sustainability this is by far their most meaningful film, the passion and faith of its anti-war message reflected in the terrifying changes hardship evokes in its characters. Moving to the point of tear-jerking, Grave of the Fireflies was a game-changing movie not just for Ghibli but for anime as a whole, giving animators the permission to explore topics far beyond their usual realms of gods, monsters and dystopian futures. Harrowing. 

2. Spirited Away (2001) 

Much like Lewis Carroll's novel, Hayo Miyazaki's take on Alice in Wonderland is a bizarre, spiritual and utterly gorgeous work of genius. When her parents are transformed into pigs in an apparently uninhabited theme park, ten-year old Chihiro delves into a ludicrous, regularly disturbing spirit world as she attempts to win them back. Miyazaki's phenomenal creativity is at its very best in the creation of a beautifully varied cast of characters, and artistically Spirited Away feels like a culmination of all Ghibli's work; each frame an explosion of colour and a masterclass in artistic craftsmanship. The art isn't just for aesthetic value either; the simplicity of the appearance of the spirit No Face makes him all the more scary by comparison to more detailed, elaborate creatures. It's a truly frightening film at times too, although the fearful tone is carefully lifted as the movie goes on as Chihiro becomes more and more at home in her new world. It's not as pushy in its messages as some, but this only furthers the fairytale atmosphere of the piece; this is art for art, not for politics. Deserved winner of the Oscar for best animated feature, Spirited Away is an exquisite film that truly justifies Miyazaki's status as a visionary. 

1. Princess Mononoke (1997)
For me, Princess Mononoke encapsulates everything Studio Ghibli films are about. There's an epic, hugely ambitious storyline of demons, gods and warriors. There's magnificent, perfectly drawn and painted artwork.. And there's a frank message on the harsh realities of environmental destruction. The film studies religion, the ruination of ancient culture and humanity's relationship with the animal kingdom (the titular princess was, rather wonderfully, raised by wolves) , but its moral values are only part of the picture. Princess Mononoke is a deliciously enjoyable tale of epic fantasy full of intense violence juxtaposed with natural imagery, and it's also technologically inventive and at times exceptionally witty. Described as "The Star Wars of anime", the film takes existing archetypes and themes and employs them to create the perfect hero tale without every seeming cliched. Intelligent, fast paced and thrilling, Princess Monokoke tells us almost as much about the futility of war as Grave of the Fireflies does, but remains a fiercely entertaining film. Like so many on this list, Princess Mononoke is a true masterpiece.  Not content to be one of the best anime movies around, it's up there among the greatest films ever made. 

Mr Turner review: Brilliant brushstrokes from Timothy Spall

Like the character of JMW Turner, Mike Leigh's biopic of Britain's favorite artist is a painting of contradictions. Leigh presents an unglamorized view of Turner's later years; the awesome splendor of his landscapes repeatedly brought down to earth by the mundane reality of his own life. Rather than making for dull viewing, Turner's simplicity brings us to the realization that such an apparently ordinary, if eccentric man was responsible for colossal artistic achievements, an idea which reflects the visionary nature of the film as much as it reflects on Turner himself.


Timothy Spall plays Turner in a role likely to define his career (discounting the unhappy inevitability of being remembered largely for his performances in the Harry Potter series). Spall produces a small miracle of character acting, simultaneously tender in his deep love for his father (a touching performance by Paul Jesson) and callous in his neglection of his own daughters, vain in his desire for the success of his work and his hurt at its dismissal by a young Queen Victoria ("a dirty yellow mess") yet accepting and even happy in his close relationship with his second mistress Sophia Booth. A lesser actor might have palled at the complexity of the figure but Spall is in his element, each joyfully Victorian line delivered with knowing confidence and a subtle gruffness concealing deeper emotions. He may have spent two years learning to paint for the role, but it's Spall's sublime performance that truly makes the film, whether he's lashed to a ship's mast in an effort to understand the atmosphere of a storm or frequenting brothels for inspiration.

On the subject of painting, the brilliance of Turner's art is not overlooked despite the focus on the portrayal of his everyday life. Taking Turner's last words "the sun is god" to heart, Leigh and cinematographer Dick Pope create vibrant cinematic visions of the England that inspired Turner's work, each bedecked in gorgeous colour and light. To see the iconic Fighting Temeraire restored to glorious reality through masterful use of technology is a particularly spine-tingling moment, as is the instant of inspiration for his Great Western Railway. Alienation becomes a theme as Turner's world is rapidly overtaken by industry (steam engines, cameras), but there's a nagging sense that he was always a man apart, unable to connect with virtually anyone except his father. Leigh highlights this through Turner's emotionless sexual exploitation of his first mistress Hannah Danby, a woman tragic in her love for the painter despite his treatment of her. Returning to the painting, I was disappointed with the lack of focus on the development and reactions to Turner's individual masterpieces, particularly The Fighting Temeraire, which are somewhat glossed over. Although the portrayal of Turner's ordinary life serves the picture well, a little more screen time for the art itself would have improved the balance, and it's particularly noticeable in a film well over two hours long.

Despite its dark revelations of character, this is a wonderfully funny film full of comic moments. From Turner's mockery of establishment artists such as John Constable by "ruining" a storm painting with a single drop of red paint before turning it into a buoy, to his spying on prospective art buyers through a peephole, Spall proves himself a master of comic delivery and timing. However, Leigh does appear to overstretch the comedy in his portrayal of art critic John Ruskin as simpering twerp, especially considering the huge role Ruskin played in preserving the memory of Turner's art after his death. But for all my minor gripes, Leigh's film is a near perfect vision of Turner's life, stoically refusing to pretentiously glamorize but remaining witty and deliciously entertaining. And as Hannah Danby weeps for her lost, unrequited love in the film's final shot, we are reminded that for all his artistic genius Turner's story was a brilliantly human one.

9/10