Quartet:
***/*****, or 7/10
Dustin
Hoffman's directorial debut brings together a top-notch cast of grand
British actors, all of old age but none of them showing any signs of
deterioration in terms of acting abilities. At Beecham House, a home
for retired musicians, the success of the annual concert in
celebration of Verdi's birthday is endangered by a new arrival. Jean
(Maggie Smith), a diva with a history, has no interest in returning
to the stage, but her former co-singers (Billy Connolly, Pauline
Collins) and her estranged ex-husband (Tom Courtenay) have to
convince her otherwise in order to save their home financially.
Trouble is, they too are hindered by the ups and downs of geriatrics,
making for many an endearing moment. A fine cast lifts this otherwise
mediocre feel-good film to greater heights, though the typical string
of 'old folks' jokes and the fairly predictable outcome of past
romantic entanglements never make for remarkably emotionally
compelling angles. Apart from the use of real (ex)musicians in the
supporting cast and their appropriation of the works of the grand
classic composers, it's the main quartet of actors that carries the
movie and provides most of the fun; Billy Connolly especially as a
rather eccentric and cheeky old man, filled with naughty charisma and
ever ready for witty, sexually charged repartee, who never stops to
hit on every female he encounters, no matter her age. Michael Gambon
also delivers some laughs in his role as an insufferable concert
planner plagued by short term memory loss and a general obnoxious and
insensible loudmouth attitude. Ironically, the final quartet the
title hints at, and the movie in fact builds up to, is left out, so
we never get to hear just how good of a singers the main characters
are, which is a bit of a downer considering the plot keeps boasting
their vocal prowess and their acting talent alone is considerate
enough to make you wonder just how talented they are in other
departments. However, it's clear this movie is not about the quartet
itself, but the long and difficult road towards it. And with a good
cast, all actors so clearly enjoying themselves to the fullest, plus
the plethora of vocal performances already present in the picture,
such closure isn't actually warranted.
After
Earth: **/*****, or 3/10
M.
Night Shyamalan's worst movie to date, but you can blame its failure
on the Smith family, since this is another attempt of Will Smith's to
launch his son into stardom. If the gods are just, it ought to
backfire seriously. Set in a distant future 1,000 years after
humanity has abandoned Earth for making it uninhabitable (as humanity
is currently doing), it centers on a father, a battle hardened
military officer called Cypher Raige, and his teenage son Kitai,
desperately attempting to follow into his father's footsteps (as
Jaden Smith is doing himself here, to no avail). Mankind has settled
on a different planet where it got into a conflict with an alien race
(briefly mentioned but otherwise not shown) who unleashed monsters
called Ursa, blind predatory creatures that hunt via the detection of
human fear. Cypher led the vanguard in defeating the creatures when
he found a way to shut out all sense of fear and became the ultimate
Ursa slayer. Unfortunately for his family, and the audience, he seems
to have destroyed all other human emotions too, as this is without a
doubt Smith's least compelling performance ever: all trace of the
charismatic Smith of old has gone, leaving him a sour, dull
character. Call him a poor man's Vulcan (he makes Zachary Quinto look
like Kolinahr material!). You would feel sorry for Kitai, were it not
that Jaden's acting is still humongously subpar as well, not likely
to get better any time soon. En route for some good father/son
bonding, the Raiges crashland on Earth, which is populated by strange
creatures and plagued by harsh geological and climatological
phenomena. As Cypher says, 'everything on this planet has evolved to
kill humans'. It seems the people that made this movie don't
understand just how evolution works and how long it takes. For one
thing, if there have been no more humans around for a milennium, how
come everything has evolved to kill them? It's just the first in a
long line of plot holes that riddle this movie like Swiss cheese. The
wounded Cypher – Will Smith spending the rest of the movie sitting
down and looking gloomy – sends his frightened son out to retrieve
a distress beacon from the ship's tail section, which crashed a 100
miles away. Fortunately for Kitai his father is able to watch and
comment on his progress the entire time, so he can endlessly point
out what he's doing wrong and what an idiot he is. If only Smith had
told his son he can't act for shit before making this movie,
it would have saved him a lot of money and spared us 100 minutes of
audiovisual agony. Might be Smith had an ulterior motive in making
this film though, since it seems laced with Scientology propaganda.
Smith's rumoured interest in that cult seems confirmed throughout the
movie when he gives long speeches on banning fear and keeping your
emotions in check for your own mental and physical health, meant to
inspire his whiny son but delivered while he's directly looking into
the camera as if he's indoctrinating the spectator. It doesn't work
though, since the viewer is too smart to take this bad film seriously, while his son has no time to take in all his lessons anyway as he's
continously running for his life from digital giant baboons, digital
giant eagles, digital giant cats and other terrors of poorly rendered
digital environments until he reaches the tail section – which
looks like a few pieces of plastic covered in toilet paper – where
he comes to the conclusion there's an Ursa stalking him. Will Kitai
defeat the monster, save himself and his father and become a true
space ranger? Will his father actually care? Will we? To save you
time and money you might otherwise have wasted on this so-called
movie, here's the answers: yes, no, no. A predictably happy end
cannot be avoided as father and son are reunited, but Cypher still
doesn't look like a proud father, and the viewer is simply too
concerned with locating the nearest exit to care. Despite the absence
of the dreaded plot twist, poor Shyamalan's career seems ever less
likely to recover. We can only hope our own future will look nothing
like this. That said, I know what the future will hold for this
movie: endless hating and being made fun of. But hey, Smith's
Afterbirth makes it so easy...
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