Welcome to the party

When you hear the term ‘cancer film’ you can’t help but fill with trepidation. Your mind shoots to the image of a not-so-heartbreaking romance film where the people are oh so in love that all you do is feel bitter and resentful of their affection as well as wishing their nauseating cliché of a film would stop and you actually end up standing and applauding when one of them dies in a tear heavy finale that actually makes you question whether life is worth living, because if people think shit like this is good, it clearly isn’t as the world has become over populated with idiots.

Either that or the idea of a religious man getting cancer, losing his faith in god and slowly rehabilitating it in a series of moody grey set pieces and talks with monks that makes you think that if there was a god he wouldn’t subject you to this self indulgent, depressing shit and you end up missing the message the film was trying to put out. (I can’t title these films exactly, but I’m sure they’re out there. You’re on tumblr; piss away two hours reblogging moody pictures from these kind of films and find it out for me, you technological clichés.)

Refreshingly though, 50/50 is absolutely nothing like this. It is, from start to finish, an incredible movie that goes up there with my favourite films of all time.

It’s something I could have told you before the film started, as the excellent trailer did little but highlight what a brilliant film this is going to be and also Joseph Gordon-Levitt was in it. Who has never done a bad film; even GI Joe: Rise of the Cobra had a camp, explosion heavy and slightly sado-masochistic charm (all that leather….All that leather.) And he does nothing but excel here, highlighting how truly gifted an actor he is by presenting an emotionally vulnerable, bitter, resentful and mournfully sad Adam Lerner, the character diagnosed with a rare form of cancer and given a 50/50 chance of survival.

Although this sounds like a film which has all the potential to be something that makes middle aged women cry for 2 hours and make everyone else question whether life is worth living at all. It is brilliantly anchored by the lead, and its tremendous supporting cast. All funny; all emotionally devastating at the same time. A truer depiction of real life emotion I don’t think I have ever seen in a film.

From Angelica Huston’s barely-coping mother, Anna Kendrick’s deliriously sweet psychiatrist and Seth Rogen’s stoner best friend; which brings the most mature and capable performance of his career. If he and JGL aren’t up for Golden Globes it will be a stupid omission which may push me to the extent of swimming to America, walking to the Golden Globe headquarters (it shouldn’t be difficult to locate, a huge black building made out of the bones of people who couldn’t afford to go the cinema and were therefore crushed as they couldn’t give to the huge corporate machine. It’s right next to the Oscars HQ, which is exactly the same, but this one actually has Sauron’s eye on it) and expressing my displeasure in a pleasant conversation with the secretary at the front desk. (Did that go the way you think it was going to go? Nope.)

These supporting characters are brilliant and funny, but it is Levitt’s show; bringing out a performance of such believable sorrow, anger and heartbreak that not one person in the cinema wasn’t crying. Except me. I’m a man. Therefore I don’t cry. There had just been a convenient pigeon that flew into my eye and made my eyes water profusely for the final 25 minutes; go on, try and prove me wrong. I dare you.

He balances this with a comically touching performance which expresses the feelings all the audience can’t help but feel sympathy for. Kudos goes to the writer, Will Reiser, for who this film is semi-autobiographical, for really putting the thoughts and fears of a barely living cancer patient out there for all us to see. It’s shocking and emotionally draining in equal measure.

Although I may make this sound like a film which will only drive you to escapist heroin abuse as you slip on the tears and blood of those who already lost the will to carry on. It isn’t in the slightest; the genuine, natural humour keeps you blissfully happy throughout until it reaches its heart wrenching final act just before the immensely satisfying ending; which doesn’t just leave you content. It leaves you with a massive smile on your face as you see what this person went through, how it changed them and what is yet to come.

All in all; this film is beautiful. Real, genuine and believable and should surely get awards recognition, definitely at the Golden Globes if not the Oscars, which is should. After all Juno won an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay. JUNO?! Seriously?!?!

There aren’t enough awards to give this film though, one that is nothing short of perfect.

Verdict: 5/5

I am fully aware that this film came out nearly 5 years ago, but I did something the rest of the world did as well and chose not to see it; until my girlfriend told me it would be a worthwhile watch and I sat down to finally, full of expectations watch something that looked stupid when it came out; and is stupid now.

Before you assume this is going to be another hyper negative review- this is my favourite film of the ones I have watched since I’ve been doing this bid for emotional gratification; but that doesn’t protect it from the fact it has ludicrous deficiencies. And that’s if I ignore the plot which sounds like something a 13 year old on meth would write whilst he was watching anime pornography; it has the believability of whatever that tentacle heavy exploitation film would have as well.

Sunshine is the deliriously simple tale of a crew of shipmates going to re-ignite the sun. That’s right; RE-IGNITE THE SUN, with something called a payload which is either military talk or a metaphor about money and corruption or whatever; you are too put off by Cillian Murphy’s adolescent drone to want to listen to an explanation of it.

Despite the rather interesting story, good cast and top notch director; the films leaves a lot half baked (Get it? Half baked? Baking hot sun? Film about the sun? No?) which overall makes for a rather sloppy ending where no emotion is omitted from the audience and all you do is look at the pretty light show and wish it was November 5^th where you would be stood freezing your bone marrow to an icy sheen but still feel warmer than how this film leaves you when it comes to its predictable conclusion.

There’s another thing; people alone for a prolonged amount of time in space, the audience knows how this is going to end. Not one person could tell you otherwise. No-one told the writer though who tries to explore as many genres as possible before he falls on predictability to tie the film up. After exploring mood piece, disaster film, loss of humanity and slasher flick he reverts to the obvious after giving Danny Boyle, usually excellent, an opportunity to mishandle all of those genres.

It’s a shame how misguided the ending is when it starts so well; granted the voice over explaining the purpose of the Icarus space ship is so ludicrous it takes a lot of effort not to get up and leave and watch something more believable, like a Katie Price documentary called ‘Confessions of a Catholic Nun’, but once you get past that the film pounces into emotional intensity and believability. Cillian Murphy’s character, Cappa, is built upon nicely and Chris Evans’ Mace is also touched upon to get you into the hope that this might become an interesting character piece. It doesn’t. After this promising beginning it makes you resent and hate the other crew and not care when their inevitable demise is met in a ludicrous manner of ways. With every sudden and unexplainable tonal shift you start to feel like there is nothing more that you would rather do than walk into the ship with a crowbar and destroy every soul yourself,  if Michelle Yeoh’s Corazon (SPOILER ALERT) had been on the screen for a second longer I would have had to kill her myself with her own plants screaming SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP YOU TERRIBLY POINTLESS HUMAN BEING!

Once more the ending leaves a bitter taste in the mouth, not because of its predictability but because you stop caring. The death of the sun is supposed to be a threat to earth, but you can’t help but think the world is in as much peril of destruction as a goat at the joint annual convention of vegans, goat worshipers and weak similes; it’s such an undersold plot development.

All in all, after the promising plot, beginning and setting you start to, not dislike the film, but resent what it turns into; you wish it would stop trying to be a mainstream , high CGI film and be an interesting character piece that it tries, and succeeds, to be at points throughout.

Verdict: 3/5

Let’s get it out of the way as soon as possible. Yes: this can be compared to 300, it’s made by the same people, it was advertised as the heir to 300, it has slow motion action, hyped up melodrama and a sex scene so achingly cheesy the only way it could be more so is if Freida Pinto went down on herself with a phallic shaped piece of Gorgonzola.

Unlike 300, Immortals has more of a story which wraps the viewer in to the narrative, more unfortunately unlike 300, it is a pale imitation of the technical verve which made 300 such a hit. Whereas the melodrama in 300 was tongue in cheek which somehow made you take the film seriously; Immortals suffers from the very human flaw of trying to be as serious as possible. Which works in bits but for the most part you just want to enter the film, put on a pot of tea and tell everyone to calm the fuck down.

Don’t get me wrong there is a legitimate amount of peril in Immortals, from the inaudible Mickey Rourke as King Hyperion who has taken issue with the fact his name sounds like a Pokemons and has decided to take over the world and kill the Gods. He plans to do this by releasing the Titan’s, Immortal warriors that the Gods enslaved which is explained by that guy who played Ollivander in the Harry Potter movies in an opening voice over which reminds me of an old video teachers who couldn’t be bothered to do their job would show students about ancient Greece and call it ‘education’.

The threat from these Titan’s though is left very half done due to uneven narrative handling focusing on the human side so that by the time these warriors become relevant you have difficulty remembering; who, what, why they are and why you should care about them being killed as all they appear to be is a threat to the Gods who spend the film looking moody at a 45 degree angle and making every man in the cinema wish they did more sit ups. It’s a shame really as the Titan’s are introduced in a way which makes them feel like extras in a big budget, graphic porn film that you got drunk one night, watched with a group of friends and then spent the next 6 years in therapy crying about.

However that storyline is almost totally forgotten until the end where the director cranks the slow motion up to 11 and does a special on ketchup coloured blood flying everywhere, in favour of a standard revenge/stop an evil tyrant/protect the girl story centred around Henry Cavill (playing Theseus, a mortal man chosen by Zeus to protect the world from Pika- sorry, Hyperion, who also has an issue with the little fact Hyperion killed his mother. Furthermore he has issues with his honour, because a film about Ancient Greeks wouldn’t be right without one) who everyone is very excited about. A. Because he is going to be playing Superman in Zack Snyder’s Man of Steel next year. B. Because he has a body which makes housewives want to trade in their pot bellied men for a younger, chiselled model.

When the director isn’t showing gratuitous shots of Cavill’s abs however there is little for to work with, as he is obviously instructed to just look mean and shout. You leave the cinema wanting to kick and be hateful to things because prolonged exposure to Cavill’s face makes you believe that anger and hate are the only emotions left in the world; I saw a girl smile on the way out and I attacked her with holy water. He is not alone in his inability to just talk and therefore shouts instead, as that is also Luke Evans’ (Zeus) calling card. The director (Tarsem Singh) tries to hit you with so much masculine machismo that every time one of these characters talk you feel like you’re being dicked in the ears by the Gods of massive erect phalluses. Which on the whole is very overwhelming.

The balance is almost restored by Mickey Rourke, who seems to think audibility is the mark of bad actors and spends the whole film mumbling things that a professionally trained linguist from a Bond film would have trouble understanding.

Don’t get me wrong; there is a lot I like about Immortals. When the action finally gets going after the seemingly hours of clichéd ancient Greek film talk about honour, family and pride, it’s breathtaking. Pacy and perfectly edited. The overall colour hue is wonderful and the costumes are good, even if some of the headwear looks like someone shot electricity through the bell end of a porcupine and  the breastplates have nipples. Nipples damn you; why?

But the issue remains that a mishandled narrative lessens the tension to the extent that by the end you aren’t wishing the Gods to defeat the Titans to save the world, you want to see what HENRY CAVILL!!!!!! Is doing, you don’t care when something emotional happens to the Gods because you don’t know enough about them to want to pay attention; you want to see what HENRY CAVILL!!!!!!!!!! Is doing.

All in all the film is good, you are just hurt by the thought of what an action epic it could have been.

3/5