Retro Thrills and Cold War Kicks In Guy Ritchie’s “The Man From U.N.C.L.E”

I’ve been a Guy Ritchie fan since stumbling upon Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels years ago. The man’s wry wit and distinctive visual style made him, in this reviewer’s opinion, the UK’s own Quentin Tarantino. Ritchie has had great successes with films such a Snatch and of course, the Sherlock Holmes franchise. I’m happy to report that Ritchie is in fine form with his big screen adaptation of the cult 1960’s TV-series The Man From U.N.C.L.E.

     Thankfully, Warner Brothers resisted all temptation to bring The Man From U.N.C.L.E into the 21^st century w/iPads, Bugatti Veyrons and tattooed ladies. (Granted all of those certainly have their appeal.) With this property, though, they showed some integrity and the result is a Mad Men episode on steroids! Period costuming, sets, vehicles and even the photography are absolutely spot on in evoking the film’s era. This isn’t just a post card from the 1960’s, it’s a love letter back to that stylish if troubled decade.

     The plot is simple, though not the thin framework upon which to hang stunning production values it could have been. American art thief turned CIA agent Napoleon Solo (Henry Cavill) is teamed with KGB strong arm Illya Kuryakin (Armie Hammer) to escort lovely East German mechanic Gaby Teller (Alicia Vikander) to find her long lost father in Rome and stop him from completing a nuclear bomb for escaped South American Nazis. Along the way they encounter complications from all sides, including neo-fascist Italian industrialists, a power-mad wife (Elizabeth Debicki), even duplicity within the team itself.

     Henry Cavill’s cleft chin and Superman jaw-line lacked the aristocratic feel of Robert Vaughn’s Napoleon Solo. However, Cavill did give this performance a James Garner air of all-American smart ass charm. Honestly, I’d rather see Cavill play Napoleon Solo again rather than Clark Kent any day of the week and in a double feature on Sunday.

     Armie Hammer turned in a strong performance as the two-dimensional Illya. Yes, the character was lacking in development but no biggie, Ritchie’s expertise behind the camera showcased Hammer perfectly.

     Elizabeth Debicki poured a disturbing composure into her femme fetale Victoria, the dominating wife of the Italian industrialist supplying the means to create the nuclear bomb. Not only does Debicki portray Victoria with cool slyness, she looks completely stunning. Debicki’s Victoria could easily be an early-super model were it not for her dark side, which itself is strangely alluring. Miss Debicki has apparently played Lady Macbeth in a recent film version of the Scottish play; believe me, THAT has gone on my must-watch list.

     This film’s only drawback would have to be the musical montages. Not that these are poorly done or that the musical choices do not work with the images, it just feels like there are too many. While entertaining, Ritchie’s style abuse here becomes almost tedious.

     The Man From U.N.C.L.E presents a Cold War era action-comedy with genuine stunts, decent writing and good performances all around. Guy Ritchie helmed a solid film; if not blockbuster material it is undeniably quality cinema. Every penny of the $75 million dollar budget is up on that screen to be enjoyed, and I recommend you do so! This is a bit of 1960’s retro, Bond-esque fun. It is possible that we have not seen the last of Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin, so jump on this budding franchise while it’s still fresh.

P.S. – U.N.C.L.E stands for United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. 

Last Vegas – This Ain’t Kid Stuff

     Unlike actors, who contrary to popular belief are just flesh and blood, there are a few film subjects that never get old. Love, friendship and the unstoppable onset of age are a handful of such timeless themes and all three are presented with warmth, humor and respect in Last Vegas.

     This low-key yet flashy film presents four of the finest actors of the past thirty years: Robert De Niro, Michael Douglas, Morgan Freeman and Kevin Kline, as four childhood pals from Brooklyn who gather in Las Vegas to celebrate the marriage of the last bachelor among them. Michael Douglas plays Billy, an aging west coast big shot who finally breaks down and proposes to his much younger girlfriend during his eulogy for a deceased business mentor. Robert De Niro plays Paddy, Billy’s best friend who is still holding a grudge over the LA impresario’s failure to appear, or even call, when his wife died a year earlier. There are deep, long standing animosities between Billy and Paddy, and these threaten not only the Vegas weekend but their 60 year friendship. Morgan Freeman appears as Archie, a man struggling to regain his freedom after suffering a mild stroke that has sent his son Ezra (Michael Ealy) into full blown panic protection/control mode. Rounding out this venerable quartette is Kevin Kline as Sam, a man with his wife Miriam’s (Joanna Gleason) permission to fool around in Vegas so long as she doesn’t hear about it – what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

While Archie and Sam at times seem little more than comic relief to the heavier drama between Billy and Paddy, their stories do get enough attention to afford them satisfying resolutions. All told, the stories and characters complement each other well in this light-hearted film about grown-up quandaries.

Also featuring in this old-timer’s weekend in Vegas film is Mary Steenburgen as Diana, a lounge singer who attracts the romantic attentions of both Billy and Paddy. Diana’s presence not only complicates the old buddies’ already tense times, but also plays an important role that drama’s ultimate outcome. Ms. Steenburgen herself proves by playing Diana that a woman 60 years young can still be charming and sexy.

There’s a lot of fun to be had watching Last Vegas – even the two tween-agers sitting behind me occasionally laughed out loud. (I’m pretty sure they walked into the wrong theater, Ender’s Game was playing in the theater next door.) When the climactic party scene gets too wild in the guy’s penthouse suite none other than rap star Curtis Jackson III, a.k.a. Fifty-Cent, makes a cameo as himself, first complaining about the noise, then asking if he can come in… “Fiddy” is refused entry by the party’s gate-keeper. While nowhere near the same class as On Golden Pond or even The Sunshine Boys, this picture, written by Dan Fogelman (Cars, Stupid Crazy Love) and directed by Jon Turteltaub (The Kid, National Treasure), knows better than to even attempt such lofty melodramatic heights and stand on its own merits. Those merits are multiple, a good time at the movies with some great actors playing people to whom grown-ups can relate and its all set in the town that has become – for good or bad – a giant theme park for grown-ups.

Perhaps the most satisfying aspect to this film is its genuineness in dealing with the issues of aging and loneliness. Even though these issues are dealt with in comic fashion no punches are pulled. A stroke would be a serious mortality wake-up call to most people, as would the loss of the woman you’ve loved since you were children in the same Brooklyn neighborhood. Last Vegas confronts and comforts those cruel realities as well as any film, and does so while keeping the schmaltz meter set squarely at zero.

Watching Last Vegas made me realize that I’d rather spend 90 minutes watching Robert De Niro and Michael Douglas barely talk to each other than watch 100 minutes of $150Million in CGI special effects. Those tweeners behind me may someday realize themselves they feel the same way. I hope so at least, and that’s coming from a guy who was the kid who saw Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom five times in the summer of ’84. Last Vegas is definitely a must see, I’m still smiling thinking of it, although admittedly it’s a wistful smile.

Pints, Punch Ups and WTFs?! at The World’s End

            It’s hard to recapture past glory, live up to our youthful potential and/or the expectations others have of us. These hobgoblins of the adult psyche, which we sense most acutely as middle-age approaches, plague not only Gary King (Simon Pegg) but the film he dominates: The World’s End. Not that this latest release from the team of Simon Pegg and director Edgar Wright is bad, no, far from it!  However, this high-energy comedy feels a lot like Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life; hilarious yet forced, lacking that spark which made its predecessors so outlandishly enjoyable.

            Story-wise, The World’s End is essentially an Invasion of the Body Snatchers remake, with the feel of having been written between questions at a pub quiz. Gary King, a man stuck in perpetual teen-aged rebellion, gathers four old friends to their sleepy hometown of Newton Haven to conquer an epic pub crawl they bungled some 20 odd years earlier. The night starts with Gary’s mates, Andy (Nick Frost), Peter (Eddie Marsen), Steve (Paddy Considine) and Oliver (Martin Freeman) all basically humoring their “loser” pal from the past. Thankfully, just as the rebukes and relationships edge towards genuine adult drama, this film launches into its true nature: an apocalyptic sci-fi comedy. The five friends find themselves running from pub to pub (it’s their only plan) evading blue blooded non-robot simulants of the townsfolk. These “simulants” are put together like life-sized G.I. Joe and Barbie dolls (or Action Man if you’re reading this in the UK), a concept both imaginative and disturbing. It seems while everyone was off building grown-up lives complete with careers, kids and divorces; and Gary was off doing, well nothing really; a quiet alien invasion has been taking place not only in Newton Haven, but all over the world!

Ultimately, it is up to a very drunk Gary to make the case for mankind and convince the homogenizing and exceedingly polite aliens that Earth doesn’t want to be groomed to join their galactic community. Gary’s words speak not only of humanity but of himself as well: yes we’re uncouth; yes we’ve spent much of our time on the planet so far screwing around; and yes, we know what’s best for us and we still don’t do it! BUT we want to be free, to do what we want to do, to have fun and get loaded and, well who the hell are you to tell us what we should be or do?! Piss off!

            Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright have said The World’s End is the conclusion of a trilogy with their previous films, Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz. The connective tissue between the three is evident and there is a full-circle sense of finality to The World’s End. I will miss this team that made zombies funny, British coppers bad-asses and a pub crawl a world saving odyssey. Perhaps destiny will reunite Pegg and Wright; it was all over with Meaning of Life but it wasn’t with Return of the Jedi. (Hmm, Cornetto Wars, Episode One, The Phantom Whippy?)

The World’s End is great fun, with rapid fire humor, fights with life-sized action figure people and good running gags; but it is hardly the back-of-the-net goal that was the first romantic comedy with zombies. This film came dangerously close to being boring, with a group of friends gathering, re-opening old wounds and dealing with the perennial under-achiever. The first thirty minutes or so dragged as we got to know who these five were, have evolved into and what subtle animosities they harbor for one another. Thankfully, good action, comedy and solid writing came through in the third act and all that early, banal dialogue even turned out to be important. Maybe I’m being too hard on Pegg and Wright because of my unrealistic expectations of their work. It is hard to live up to your potential and other people’s expectations, especially once you’ve created a reputation for excellence. Like Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life, Pegg & Wright’s “Blood and Ice Cream” finale may be damned to be an under-appreciated good time, judged by fans more for its failings than for its accomplishments.