Jan/Feb 2022

 We're in the doldrums folks, time to take a quick look at the kind of studio crap getting released between Christmas and the Oscars this year.

  

Moonfall

Does what it says on the tin. Roland Emmerich has been floundering for some time now as the world grew out of his style of sub-Spielberg disaster porn, but he finds a streak of high camp here that must have caught me in a good mood because I was loving it. The film doesn’t try to hide or excuse its ludicrous premise, instead leaning in to the child’s brain science and conspiracy nonsense with a confidence that charms and delights; it doesn’t want to be taken seriously and I was more than happy to play along. The main cast share that sense of fun, doing sincere evocations of the kind of b-movie performances common in 1950’s films with a fraction of the budget on display here, and never giving in to overly winky parody despite clearly knowing the kind of project they’re in. Patrick Wilson is a standout as a square jawed space cowboy, nailing a tone that’s often hard to balance. The spectacle is predictably loud and cluttered in a uniquely modern way, but does hark back to the halcyon days of the 1990’s when films like Independence Day and Armageddon displayed a blisteringly stupid American patriotism that’s hard not to smile at for a couple of hours in today’s world of depressive cynicism. Moonfall could definitely have used a good Aerosmith song is what I’m saying.     

 

Death on the Nile

I liked Branagh’s first outing as Poirot, and his central performance as the famed detective remains a standout, but a lot of the pieces don’t fit as well this time. There’s a kind of slick, rigorous, detail oriented filmmaking that often serves this genre well (think Knives Out recently) that Branagh is not really capable of, instead opting for lush theatricality with his costumes, styling (that moustache) and shooting in 65mm. However the style never goes far enough, for one thing the lack of real location shooting stifles the large format celluloid look by requiring most of the film to be slathered in floor to ceiling bluescreen, resulting in a plasticky, off putting feeling. None of the cast really play big enough to stand out, and there’s a surprising lack of urgency or hysteria. A prologue sequence showing an origin story for Poirot’s moustache promises an off-the-rails tone that the rest of the film never lives up to, and unlike Moonfall Branagh fails to find the right balance of campy, dumb fun that’s required for something this unwieldy.        

 

Jackass Forever

The pranks themselves have long since been eclipsed by the torrent of extreme content on the internet, including countless Jackass imitators, but the core dynamic of the groups friendship is irreplicable. The time between this new instalment and the last in 2010 has only amplified the sense of camaraderie, generosity and laid back death defiance. A few members of the old team are missing but the cast has been bolstered by a handful of newcomers that do a decent job of integrating with Knoxville and co, taking some of physical pressure off of guys whose past is clearly catching up to them (shock white hair, removable teeth, etc). The whole thing is joyful, generous, and sweetly nostalgic. It’s also obviously still gross, thrilling and wince inducing; Knoxville facing off against bulls remains the most riveting thing in cinema.