Captain America, The Winter Soldier review: All American Average

The multi-billion dollar cinematic universe Marvel Comics had been fashioning since the nineties has seen its fair share of hits and misses. From the brilliance of Joss Whedon’s The Avengers and the superb original Iron Man to the ill-fated Daredevil and Electra, the legendary company has witnessed dozens of its characters rise into superhero Valhalla or tumble into irrelevance. Captain America lies somewhere between the two, which is perhaps still more disappointing than the character being a complete failure on the big screen. While mildly entertaining, what the brothers Russo have created in this sequel is a distinctly uninspired and almost lazy attempt to reignite the career of a character who, in any case, was hardly one of the Marvel elite.

Assuming that everyone has already seen The First Avenger, the film bounds straight back into the chaos-ridden life of Steve Rogers (Chris Evans). Still having trouble readjusting to modern life having been frozen in ice for sixty years, he’s living in Washington DC and working for the ever-shady espionage agency S.H.I.E.L.D.   But when S.H.I.E.L.D is compromised, the all America super-soldier unites with Scarlett Johansson’s Black Widow to expose a deadly conspiracy. The plot is handled in classic Marvel style, blazing through the actual story to leave more screen time to throw the special effects budget at in a series of the usual ludicrously explosive battles. The regular use of these sequences allows for a breakneck, sugar-rush pace which prevents you from asking “just what on earth is going on”, until the film has finished and you’ve got time to think about it. Of course, when really considered the whole picture becomes largely nonsensical, so it’s certainly an impressive achievement of pacing that this rarely becomes apparent during the movie. It’s hardly an authentic filmmaking technique, but it does at least make the scenarios plausible. After all, who’s going to buy into a Marvel film with a plot that actually makes sense?

So far, so average Marvel, but what really prevents The Winter Soldier from being one of the studio’s finer efforts is its character development: there simply isn’t any. Zero effort, cringeworthy or not, is made to flesh out any of the lead characters, creating a substantial disconnection between film and audience. When that’s coupled with a remarkably average script and cast performances which rarely rise above adequate, you’re left with a popcorn-munching indifference towards the fate of the film’s heroes and villains, rendering all efforts at tension and cliffhangers redundant. Speaking of villains raises another huge issue: the movie lacks any particularly compelling or charismatic antagonists. The Winter Soldier advertised so proudly by the tagline is given a shockingly tiny screen time and next to no lines, but that’s not even the principle problem with the figure. Aside from a momentary connection with The First Avenger, the character is brutally undeveloped, to the point that he appears more of a hired gun than the true focus of the movie.  It’s particularly disappointing for Marvel, who’ve always featured the most flamboyant and exciting villains in comics, to create such a dull and misplaced one here.

In fact, apart from being for the most part inferior, the only thing that distances The Winter Soldier from its counterparts is in its vain effort to produce a topical and intelligent subplot. Its themes of governmental spying and lack of privacy could not be more relevant with the US government’s embarrassment at the hands of Edward Snowden still at the forefront of international concerns, but this effort at politically infusing the film with a message about how much control governments should have over the lives of citizens is never fully explored, and it’s constantly reversed by the rest of the movie’s thorough lack of intelligence.

For a studio which has produced some truly standout efforts on their quest in create a big screen world as rich and interdependent as the comics, The Winter Soldier is an impressively average movie. With meagre lead performances, an exceptionally dismal storyline and fewer than average links to the other Marvel movies, this unremarkable picture is destined to reside in supermarket offers sections rather than the annals of superhero-lore.

4/10

Fargo (TV series) review: A remarkable reincarnation

Tuning into Channel 4 on Sunday evening, you might have been inclined to believe that a re-run of the 1996 classic Fargo was being shown rather than a new, high budget drama of the same name. "This is a true story", boomed the opening title card, just as it did nigh on 20 years ago in the Coen Brother's masterpiece, and indeed, Steve Buscemi, who played shifty kidnapper Carl in the film, could easily have been driving that car which crawled down a snow-drenched highway in the programme's opening shot. And while it's clear throughout this seventy minute pilot episode that homage has been paid to the movie at almost every opportunity, Fargo is by no means a copy. In fact, it's a witty, dark and intelligent piece of television which fits in perfectly with the superb first wave of post-Breaking Bad US dramas.

Altering only the year of events from the film's lonely Minnesota setting, Fargo's narrative is, in style, much the same as the original. Martin Freeman plays insurance salesman Lester Nygaard, a character almost comically alike to William H Macy's Larry all the way down to a perfectly nailed accent. Despite the similarities, Freeman's casting is a stroke of genius; the timid and tentative persona we saw so many times in the early days of Sherlock making for a sublime character development as Nygaard is pushed to the edge of sanity by a life of being bullied and undermined. His performance is complimented by that of Billy Bob Thornton, who plays the second lead role of sadistic killer Lorne Malvo. Although comparable to Peter Stormare's cold psychotic Gaear in the Coen's movie, Malvo becomes a far more interesting character even by the end of this episode, evolving into a far darker personality than a mere hired gun cliché. He perhaps represents a merging together of the two kidnappers portrayed in the film; Buscemi's articulate nature combined with Stormare's cold blooded brutality combining to form a more complete figure than ether. As for the side of the law, there's no replacing Frances McDormand's Oscar winning portraying of small town and heavily pregnant cop Marge, but Allison Tolman makes an admirable job of stepping into her shoes as the near-identical Molly. Despite the obvious and inevitable links between the characterisation of film and programme, it's likely that with another nine episodes and with such strong writing most of the cast will become individuals in their own right, as Freeman and Thornton already have.

As the original was, the episode is brilliantly scripted, paying exquisite attention to creating believable dialogue between the characters while also keeping the pace flowing and entertaining, and of course it's not without the usual twists and turns along the way. Indeed, even if you're familiar with the style employed here, these moments of sudden madness remain shocking, an effect only partially augmented by their frankly alarming level of gratuitous gore. The direction is perhaps a little more focussed on the programme's brutal violence than the more subtle Coens were, you'll notice the camera lingering a little too long over its casualties, which creates the unfortunate impression of mere pulp fiction. Fans of the film will be happy to note the lack of repetition of the movie, but in addition to the underlying recurring style in setting, characters and music, there are a number of "easter eggs" for Coen connoisseurs. While these hints are typically subtle and neatly implemented, there's one clumsy scene which so blatantly mirrors the famous moment where Buscemi and  Stormare are pulled over by a police officer on an endless snowy road as to be unfortunately predictable in its take on "what would have happened if the officer had just walked away". Still, it does at least serve to highlight the differences between Thornton's Malvo and the movie's incompetent criminal duo.

Fargo is a stellar effort, updating the Coen's brilliant picture to the present day with a new storyline and great performances while paying it's respects to the stark genius of the original. It may be a little clumsy and overeager to profess its adulation of the film, but when a programme is this clever and entertaining that's more than easy to overlook.

8/10

The top ten Arctic Monkeys songs

So after compiling a list of the 25 best Muse songs, I fancied a go at another favourite band, Sheffield's own Arctic Monkeys. I managed to trim this down to ten without too much difficulty although I was forces to miss a few classics out, so without further ado, the top ten Arctic Monkeys songs.


10. R U Mine (AM, 2013)
Combining the ferocity of debut album cuts like The View From The Afternoon and I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor with the style and swagger of more developed tracks including Do I Wanna Know produced one of AM's true highlights and a riff that finally sold the band to every heavy metal magazine in the world.


9. Fluorescent Adolescent (Favourite Worst Nightmare, 2007)

A rare moment of genius in the rather samey Favourite Worst Nightmare, Fluorescent Adolescent bounces along with an infectious melody and Morrisey-esque lyrical delivery. Indeed, the song often sounds like a homage to The Smiths, with its sugar sweet tune played alongside detailed observationalist lyrics such as "flicking through a little book of sex tips, remember when the boys were all electric".

8. Secret Door (Humbug, 2009)

A song in many ways synonymous with the more mature style which stemmed from a collaboration with Queens of the Stone Age man Josh Homme on third album Humbug, Secret Door showcases the Monkeys stripped of the heavy rock riffs, yet developing a more complex, layered style supported by another infectious tune.

7. When The Sun Goes Down (Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not, 2006)

Among the darkest and most reality-checking singles ever to hit the UK number one spot, When The Sun Goes Down recants a dismal tale of prostitution on the streets of Sheffield told with a sly but poignant lyrical touch by Alex Turner. It's among the most intelligent tracks on the debut album, but it's still complimented by the usual suspects of a selection of brilliantly distorted riffs and an immortal shouted chorus.

6. Love Is A Laserquest (Suck It And See, 2011)

While Turner's lyrics are often dismissed as, well, a little naff, on Suck It And See the band hit almost poetic lyrical highs. Love Is A Laserquest is perhaps the album's highest point, as Turner sings a a tragic ballad of a character unable to move on from a lost love, similar in many ways to the brilliant Cornerstone. The drums and electric guitars are almost an annoyance here, as Turner's solo acoustic version does his words far more justice.

5. Mardy Bum (Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not, 2006)

Inspiration for the Monkeys first album was taken almost totally from personal experience, which is surely why Mardy Bum's ode to domestic arguments was so identifiable for so many people. Its summery, instantly catchy tune compliments the conflicting lyrics in a style akin to The Smiths, although the sublime guitar solo is distinctly un-Johnny Marr-ish.

4. Do I Wanna Know (AM, 2013)

A perfect fusion of riffs and melodies, Do I Wanna Know is the undisputed highlight of recent album AM no matter how much you believe that "the one everyone knows is never the best." A single jarring tune evolves into a layered, textured musical landscape in one of the band's most finey crafted pieces to date.

3. 505 (Favourite Worst Nightmare, 2007)
He may have touched on it on Mardy Bum, but 505 was Turner's first full blown love song, and it's unconventional to say the least. From twisted macabre lyrics like "I'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck" to the way the song explodes from sensual organ chords into a hail of heavy metal in its final moments, this is hardly a classic love ballad, but it's remains a shining example of a track remaing poignant and subtle without becoming a mockery of itself.


2. Cornerstone (Humbug, 2009)
Humbug's finest moment appears in the form of Cornerstone, a tragic, sensual song revolving around the life of a man unable to move on from the supposed death of the of the one he loves. Through the shifting use of the refrain "can I call you her name", Turner paints a shocking picture as his character fails to grasp the opportunity to love again and descends into an apparent madness, and it's perfected by acoustic backing, comimg-and-going melodies and a dreamy, shifting guitar solo.


1. A Certain Romance (Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not, 2006)
One of the greatest guitar songs every written, A Certain Romance brings together all the elements of the greatest of Monkeys songs to create the best of them all. From slashed power chords to a tentative melody and stunning attacked guitar solo, the track merges almost every technique and inspiration that band have used to date; a feat even more impressive when it's considered that the song appears on their debut album. And with superb lyrics dissecting the rivalries between cliques, groups and genres, A Certain Romance really is a certain kind of genius.


I am truly, truly sorry that there was no space for Only Ones Who Know, Suck It And See, The View From The Afternoon, Crying Lightning and a few others, but on the whole I'm fairly pleased with the list. As ever, comment whatever feelings you have as you see fit.

The Fault In Our Stars review: Believe the hype

Disappointment is an unfortunate by-product of anticipation. Over the years, countless books and movies have failed to live up to their lofty aspirations and perished, forgotten, in musty second hand booksellers  or charity shop DVD sections. And after the remarkable successes of author John Green's short teenage novels and with a film deal in the works even before the book's publication, anticipation could not have been higher for The Fault In Our Stars. But is the book powerful enough to survive the hailstorm of hype which sent it straight to the top of The New York Times bestseller list, or is it just another predictable lesson in how best to patronise young people?

Glancing at a plot synopsis, you'd be inclined to suggest the later option. Green employs the tried and tested formula for teen drama of combining Romeo and Juliet with a serious and current issue, be that teenage pregnancy, racial prejudice or eighteen-year-old vampires with supple skin and impressively toned muscles. The Fault In Our Stars breaks no moulds by using cancer as its villain; it's social impacts having being explored across numerous novels in the medium; albeit usually without narrating from the perspective of a cancer patient. Sixteen year old Hazel Grace Lancaster is that patient, a girl apparently on the mend after surviving a seemingly deadly tumour. After reluctantly agreeing to join a support group, Hazel meets the charismatic and inevitably attractive Augustus Waters, who's now cancer free after having his leg amputated, and the pair begin a relationship which comes to dominate the book's plot. Again, the plot appears formulaic and almost dull, you might even see the only mildly interesting thing John Green has to offer as a character who unfortunately shares his first name with the morbidly obese and chocolate infused child in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. And of course, these immediate pre-perceptions collapse into nothingness the very moment you open the book.

Green's writing has a certain drug-like quality: he knows exactly how to draw a reader in. This is partially due to the superb pacing and focus of the plot, which features literally zero throwaway scenes as each page outdoes the last in developing the novel's characters and relationships. Then there's his sly confidence in writing from the perspective of others; every line of dialogue and moment of thought is believable to the letter. Mostly however, Green's addictive style stems from his grasp of the importance of character. Hazel and Augustus are two of the most memorable figures in recent literature, Augustus in particular is a strikingly charismatic individual. Rather than filling the book with endless unnecessary minor characters, Green chooses to include only a handful of people, which allows him to create deeper and more believable relationships between them in addition to morphing their personas as he chooses. While Hazel and Augustus's relationship is the main focus of the story, the friendship they share with fellow support group attendee Isaac creates a number of situations both cautiously funny and downright shocking, which lead to him being almost as fully fleshed out as the others by the conclusion. It's the relationship that Hazel shares with her mother however which is the second key theme, as the fear and difficulty of raising a child affected by a life threatening disease receives exceptionally rare attention. The plot itself is almost secondary to characterization, and Green deliberately increases the predictability of events in an effort to show that characters can still be well-crafted and intelligent within the confines of a simple storyline.

One of the wonderful things about Green's novel is that it is only a teenage story in that its central characters are teenagers; the author carries such respect for the intelligence of the intellectually maligned demographic that The Fault In Our Stars reads like it was written for adults and deals with deliberately emotionally intense themes. Despite its dark subject matter, Green's strength is in drawing almost every emotion possible from the reader in a short space of time. There's tragedy of course, and the feelings of loss, desperation and anger that stem from it, but in places the story takes truly beautiful turns, dealing explicitly with love, hope and simple, impossible happiness. It's even funny at times. In a market crowded with one dimensional stories, burying so much emotion within the pages of a book aimed at teenagers is a startling and welcome achievement.

With intense themes and genuinely unforgettable characters, The Fault In Our Stars is a rare example of anticipation being justified and even exceeded. Forget teen book of the year, this is one of the most intelligent and emotionally powerful novels we've seen past the turn of the millennium.

10/10