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. 

The Regrets & Redemption of Old Mr. Holmes

I’ve anxiously awaited this film, not only as an Ian McKellen fan but as a devout Sherlockian since Jeremy Brett played the master detective in the 1980’s Granada series. Anticipation of McKellen’s take on the iconic Victorian sleuth ignited in me an enthusiasm I’ve not felt in years. Today, I’m genuinely happy to report that Sir Ian McKellen, and Mr. Holmes, did not disappoint.

      Mr. Holmes went well beyond my expectations of an aged Sherlock Holmes coming out of retirement for one more case. This film reveals the life of a man in decline, living a self-imposed exile as a hobbyist bee-keeper in the south of England. An old case, Holmes’ final, holds the key to this exile, however senility is quickly setting in and Holmes himself has forgotten what transpired decades earlier. The regret lingers, but the cause has been lost. Working with the aid of young Roger Munro (Milo Parker), his house-keeper’s son, Holmes slowly uncovers his own tracks through various mnemonic clues. A picture, a glove, a film version of Dr. Watson’s fictionalized (read: sanitized, yet sensationalized) account of this tragic case are all Holmes has to jog his failed memory. Fortunately, eventually, the clues bring recollection and the answer revealed as one that shocks Sherlock Holmes to the very core of his coolly methodical soul.

     There is much to be appreciated in this fine work from director Bill Condon, who also helmed Dreamgirls and Gods & Monsters – in which McKellen played an aging James Whale. Condon’s storytelling expertise is evident in every carefully composed frame. Attention to period detail is impeccable in both the 1940s where the film’s main action is set and post-WW I London, the setting of Holmes’ last case. The script is smart, well up to Conan-Doyle’s standards. Laura Linney’s performance as Holmes’ war widowed housekeeper, Mrs. Munro, was superbly natural, adding always to the embittered widow just enough depth to garner our empathy without demanding it. Young Milo Parker showed great promise in his first serious role, the launching of a bright fledgling actor. Mr. Holmes is a serious film, though not without moments of whimsy: When Holmes views the cinema version of Watson’s telling of this ill-fated final case, he is played onscreen by non-other than Nicholas Rowe from 1985’s Young Sherlock Holmes. 

     Of course, Ian McKellen as the great detective addled with a failing mind is truly this film’s highlight. The subtly nuanced performance presents us with Holmes both at the height of his analytical powers and as a feeble old man in his 90’s seeking reconciliation with the notably emotionally distanced person he was in the past. McKellen never begs us for our sympathy or understanding, he never has too. It is Holmes who elicits our admiration, our pity and our reproach; the mark of all consummate actors: McKellen’s illusion was complete.  

     Mr. Holmes will most likely not be out much longer, and may not be available at every multiplex; nevertheless this film is worth finding. Once again, in a summer dominated by $100M superhero tent-poles and monsters it is easy to miss the smaller gems. 

     

The Hobbit, Pt. II – The Desolation of Tolkien?

Another highly anticipated sequel has arrived in theaters. The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug bowed last weekend just in time to satiate our Middle Earth jones. In December 2001 I saw Peter Jackson’s first Tolkien installment, LOTR: The Fellowship of the Ring, and was completely hooked. The man had done it right: epic action set pieces, no holds barred production values and not one performance unworthy of the material. I knew then Jackson and New Line had the holiday box office sewn up for the next two years. Has the Middle Earth master done it again with his Hobbit trilogy? The answer is absolutely “Yes,” but with some caveats that diminish the shine of this otherwise brilliant cinematic experience.

Picking up where The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey left off, Jackson’s follow-up is a rambling journey to the Lonely Mountain to reclaim a treasure stolen by the dragon, Smaug. An adventure that takes us through a trippy forest infested with giant spiders, the Woodland Realm of the Elves, and the seemingly Russian-themed Lake-town before arriving at a grand hall overflowing with gold. Along the way, Bilbo Baggins (Martin Freeman) and Thorin Oakenshield (Richard Armitage) with his dozen dwarves encounter the shape-shifter Beorn (Mikael Persbrandt), a bargeman of dubious familial history called Bard (Luke Evans) and the suspicious if likable Master of Lake-town (Stephen Fry). Meanwhile, Gandalf (Ian McKellen) is busying himself trying to discover who the Necromancer (?) is that is working to bring back some ancient darkness. (Hm, wonder who that is?) Bilbo keeps his precious new ring secret and it certainly comes in handy on more than one occasion, but is shocked by the sudden scrutiny of the Eye of Sauron. Sound like a convoluted story line? It is, and frankly this film does drag in places.

This picture’s only shortcoming is its shapeless nature. The Lord of the Rings films all had recognizable beginnings, middles and endings while still holding their respective places within that trilogy. This year’s excursion to Middle Earth, while action-packed and occasionally gripping is a ponderous saga that starts and three hours later stops. Perhaps it started in the right place and ended where it was most convenient to the trilogy, but it all felt deficient somehow.

I doubt I was alone in wondering by LOTR: The Return of the King how Sauron was able to covertly return from the grave. Much of the new material in these films seems geared towards answering that question. This is fine, even necessary perhaps; however Jackson and fellow scribes Fran Walsh and Phillipa Boyens have gone above and beyond in expanding a 150 page children’s book into three, three hour films. Not only do Legolas (Orlando Bloom) and Galadriel (Cate Blanchett) make appearances, two characters not in the book, a new non-Tolkien character has been introduced as well. Tauriel (Evangeline Lilly), a female elven character, exists because as Ms. Boyens put it: “She’s our redhead. We created her for that reason. To bring that energy into the film, that feminine energy. We believe it’s completely within the spirit of Tolkien.” Is it? I didn’t know J.R.R. had a thing for redheads. Well, padding a lean plot and patching conceptual holes is one thing, but is creating a whole new character truly respectful to a writer’s vision? Not to this reviewer.

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug is in no way a bad movie. Peter Jackson’s grand vision of Middle Earth continues in the tradition he founded in 2001. This movie has everything, brilliantly conceived and flawlessly executed action, eye-popping visuals, strong performances, a hero king, a wise wizard and a brave hobbit. There’s even a romance blossoming between Fili (Aidan Turner) and Tauriel, which seems to ruffle Legolas’s flaxen hair. I liked this movie, even if the non-story and filler material is a drag in every sense. I recommend this film not only to Tolkien fans like myself but to moviegoers in general, it is first rate cinema.

December 17^th, 2014 The Hobbit: There and Back Again will be released and so will end this trilogy. Will it be the end of Middle Earth on the big screen? J.R.R. Tolkien left a great wealth of material in his literary legacy; however word has it his heirs have refused to sell any further film rights. I fear that, even if they stick to their convictions, this most distinguished of all fantasy franchises may yet be tapped again. After all, in Hollywood, where there’s a market, there’s a way, and probably some legal loophole to be exploited. If a young Boba Fett can be the subject of his own film franchise, why not a young Gandalf? Or Thorin? Or even Tauriel, the completely created warrior princess? The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug dragged, and the franchise has begun to smell of dead horse – as in “flogging a…” – which is sad. Peter Jackson and New Line need to quit while their Tolkien adaptations are still respectable, it is time to take this franchise into the west, and film history.