Let's see what we have here. London Boulevard is the directorial debut of William Monahan, Academy Award-winning screenwriter of The Departed. That sounds good. Of course, he also wrote Edge of Darkness, which included radioactive children, which is less good. On the other hand, Colin Farrell is in it, and I've really enjoyed him in the last few things I've seen him in (Fright Night and In Bruges), which almost completely makes up for how awful he was at the beginning of his career. The supporting cast includes the always reliable Ray Winstone, the considerably less consistent David Thewlis, and the adorable Anna Friel. Keira Knightley plays Farrell's romantic interest, too; while I'm not a big fan, Knightley isn't a bad actress --- she just seems to act in movies I don't want to watch. When you add all that up, London Boulevard sounds like a pretty solid movie, if not a good one. And yet, it took a year after its European release for the film to have a limited theatrical run in America. Is this a misunderstood diamond in the rough, or is this (in the parlance of the UK) just some shite that should have gone direct to DVD?
After being released from prison, Mitchell (Colin Farrell) is immediately picked up and reintroduced to the shady criminals that got him in trouble in the first place. Mitchell didn't rat anybody out --- in fact, he's a bit of a legend for being a bad-ass --- so he's not going to get snuffed, but he's tired of that life and wants to move on. Somehow, Mitchell manages to get a job as a bodyguard for reclusive actress/British tabloid fodder, Charlotte (Keira Knightley). Charlotte has developed a bit of an anxiety disorder thanks to the constant badgering she has received from the paparazzi; I would say she is paranoid, but they really are out to get her, since the worse she gets, the better their headlines.
She doesn't seem overexposed at all
Taking care of Charlotte is surprisingly rewarding for Mitchell. Aside from developing friendships that don't revolve around secrecy and being paid --- hold on...okay, his new gig isn't that different from his days as a thug. Whatever. Mitchell and Charlotte fall in love, the end. Or not. You see, ever since Mitchell got spung from the pokey, local crime boss Rob Gant (Ray Winstone) has been pestering Mitchell to flex some of that infamous bad-assery on his behalf. Mitchell has refused politely and less politely, but Gant isn't the sort who takes "no" for an answer. So who will come out on top in the end, gangster Mitchell or reformed Mitchell?
None of the acting in London Boulevard was too bad, but the leads weren't especially impressive. Colin Farrell did about as much with the role as the script would allow, but the story relies heavily on him being totally bad-ass, and we don't see a whole lot of that. Keira Knightley was fine as the strung-out celebrity, but her role was surprisingly small, given the initial movie trailer.
Rumor is Keira gained 1.5 lbs to play this role; that rumor may be exaggerated
While I didn't care for the individual performances by Farrell or Knightley, they did show some chemistry together, mostly due to Farrell being understated. Luckily, the lack of overwhelming charm and charisma from the two headlining stars is more than made up by two stellar supporting performances. David Thewlis played a habitually stoned manager/hanger-on of Charlotte, and he was great. What I liked about him was how well he played up the nonchalance of a habitual drug user, without being over-the-top at all.
This is easily the best work I've seen from Thewlis, although considering his non-Harry Potter career, that's not saying much. Ray Winstone is great at playing tough guys, and this role was right in his wheelhouse (sorry, I've been playing a lot of MLB12: The Show). Loud, violent, and scary: that's all you need to know about his performance here. There are a lot of recognizable faces in the rest of the cast, but the only one who stood out was Ben Chaplin as a sniveling and stupid crook; it wasn't a great part, but Chaplin was suitably unsympathetic. Stephen Graham and Eddie Marsan were both underutilized in small parts. Anna Friel was almost completely unnecessary in what could have been a fun bit part, but just felt out of place in London Boulevard.
As William Monahan's first directorial feature, London Boulevard does a decent amount of things right. The best scenes in the movie --- basically any time Farrell shares the screen with Thewlis or Winstone --- are snappy, well-edited and pretty awesome. The violence is also fairly raw and abrasive (in a good way).
"I'm an artist at my chosen craft"
And yet, London Boulevard is a huge mess. The first thing you'll notice is the variety and thickness of the British accents in the film; I enjoy the Brits, but even I had a hard time figuring out what was being said at times. Worse, Monahan's adapted screenplay is all over the place. The trailer makes this movie look pretty promising. A tough guy trying to get out of the criminal life and protect his new life with the woman he loves. Nothing wrong with that, at the very least, and it has the potential for greatness. But here's the thing: this movie really isn't about that. It's more of an odyssey for Mitchell as he adjusts to non-criminal life. The subplot featuring his sister was absolutely useless. The extended subplot featuring Mitchell's homeless buddy would have been useless, if not for the cheap shot it provides at the end of the film. But what is worse, a useless subplot, or a seemingly unimportant part of the movie coming back at the very, very end and suddenly being improbably important? And then there is the bit about the crooked parole officer, and the technical owner of a certain house...there's just a lot going on, but not in a fast-paced crime caper kind of way. Chunks of this movie work, but they don't actually connect to each other in a narrative or thematic fashion.
That disconnect is really at the core of what keeps London Boulevard from working. There are some good bits (the familiar overarching plot, the snappy banter in key scenes), but the pacing of the film as a whole is awful. The story gets sidetracked by subplots with little to no payoff, Mitchell is attached to certain characters for reasons the viewer never really understands, and the core of the story --- Mitchell and Charlotte falling in love --- is rushed and left mostly unexplored and unexplained.
That's enough of that!
How do you screw up a British gangster movie with so much talent in the film? By not focusing on the "gangster" part and not letting the talent interact with each other, I suppose. I was already sorely disappointed in the film when it suddenly sealed the deal and earned my ire.
I'd be pissed, too, if I starred in this
SPOILER ALERT: Mitch has just gone out of his way to keep himself and Charlotte safe, and he's leaving her house to get on a plane and meet up with her. And then he gets the shit stabbed out of him. Not by any of the famous actors in the cast, or even someone with a speaking part up to this point, but by a kid. You see, Mitch gave his homeless buddy a knife to protect himself, the homeless guy gets beaten to death, and word on the street is that a kid did the deed; Mitch tracked the kid down and was seconds away from murdering him, but he stopped, presumably because he made a choice to change. And then that stupid kid stabs him to death with his own knife, out of nowhere. That...that is just awful. It may not be the worst ending I've seen, but it is, at the very least, complete bullshit. If the movie had been good up to that point, I would have been seriously upset, so at least London Boulevard made sure you had lost interest before doing something so stupid.
For the record, that is one star each for David Thewlis and Ray Winstone. The rest of this movie can curl up and die, for all I care.
Almost a year ago, I was leaving a movie theater when somebody handed me a flyer for a free early screening of Hugo; apparently, the title wasn't grabbing enough people, because he made sure to point out that it was Martin Scorsese's first 3D movie. Obviously, as someone who enjoys the occasional film, I was very excited to see this movie and see how audience feedback would alter the final product. I went through the proper steps to reserve a spot for me and the Mrs., but on the day of the screening, the location for the film was moved about 40+ miles from a convenient Chicago suburb to Chicago proper during rush hour traffic. Since reaching the convenient neighborhood location was going to be a close call, this change of venues made it an impossibility. What does this have to do with anything? Aside from supporting claims that AMC Theaters is made of jerkfaces, very little.
Hugo follows the life and times of Hugo Cabret (Asa Butterfield), an orphan in 1930s Paris. Hugo lives an invisible life inside a train station, where he maintains all the clocks in the building and sleeps in the walls. How did he get there? Just about anywhere is better than the Paris orphanage, apparently. Since nobody knows he exists, Hugo isn't paid for his labors, which means that he has to scavenge and steal to get along. If he gets caught, or is even suspected of a crime or of being an orphan, the station inspector (Sacha Baron Cohen) will lock him up and send him to the orphanage.
"Be on the lookout for gingers without pupils"
Aside from sustenance, Hugo is also collecting parts to repair a clockwork automaton that Hugo and his late father (Jude Law) found. Working on the device had been a bonding experience for the two, and Hugo has the unreasonable expectation that the automaton, when fixed, will transmit a message to Hugo from his father. How he came to that conclusion, I don't know. But, hey, it's not like Hugo's ever built an automaton that didn't transmit messages from beyond the grave, so I can't totally fault his logic.
Why would you create a robotic pygmy? Unless...the children are giants...!
To get the parts for the automaton, Hugo pays particular attention to a toy shop in the train station, run by Georges (Ben Kingsley). Being a grouch, but not an idiot, Georges has noticed the quiet boy loitering near his stand and has made a connection to parts that have gone missing. Georges threatens to turn Hugo in to the station inspector, unless he works off his presumed debt at the shop. When he's not working at the shop, Hugo befriends Georges' orphaned goddaughter, Isabelle (Chloë Grace Moretz); she introduces Hugo to the world of books and he introduces her to the world of cinema. Ultimately, we all know the automaton has to be finished, but the final piece and the automaton's message take the film in a direction you might not expect. Unless you read a plot synopsis or the book, I mean.
Hugo is a noticeable stylistic departure for director Martin Scorsese for many reasons, but I'm specifically referring to it not being propelled by a particular actor's performance. The two leads are some of the better child actors around right now, but they don't steal the show.
They still look smug, though
Asa Butterfield is believable in both his childishness and his stubborn determination; I was also impressed by how well he managed the demanding emotional scenes. Chloë Grace Moretz continues her surprisingly respectable filmography here (she hasn't been in anything too embarrassing for her age, except Big Momma's House 2), although I was slightly irritated by her voice in this film. I don't know if it was an accent or an affectation, but she was good aside from that. The supporting cast is noteworthy, although few got the chance to shine. Ben Kingsley, as the top-billed actor, was predictably good; Kingsley doesn't always act in good movies, but pairing him with a great director makes for good stuff. I like seeing characters balance prickishness and warmth, and that's what Kingsley delivered here. I was far less impressed with Sacha Baron Cohen; I get that this is a children's movie and not a Scorsese gangster pick, but I felt that Cohen's physical comedy was clumsy and...well, unfunny. I was okay with the rest of the supporting cast, though. Helen McCrory may be far too young to play Kingsley's wife, but her makeup was tastefully done.
You look about 70, your wife is about 40...nice job, man
Ray Winstone, an excellent film ne'er-do-well, was suitably nasty as an uncaring alcoholic. Jude Law was charming and loving as Hugo's father. Christopher Lee shows up to be friendly (in a creepy way). Meanwhile, Emily Mortimer filled out the station inspector's subplot and Harry Potter alums Frances de la Tour and Richard Griffiths had their own romantic subplot.
The thing about Hugo that struck me as odd was how inconsequential the hero was to so many parts of the plot. When the film began I thought it was obvious that he would try to help de la Tour and Griffiths overcome their dog-related problems and find love. At the very least, I thought he would have a hand in the station inspector falling in love, which would inevitably lead to the inspector giving him a free pass when Hugo was inevitably caught. It might have been a tad predictable, but that never hurt Amelie, did it? And yet, none of that actually happened in Hugo. The main character takes no action in these subplots, and they do not appear to affect him in any way that fits the film's theme. So why are they included? I don't have that answer.
Sadly, it doesn't require a heart-shaped key
Of course, it is not just the subplots that have little to do with Hugo and his quest to reconnect with his dead father. The main plot veers off from a touching --- if ill-advised --- quest of a young boy trying to (essentially) make the impossible happen (reconstruct the automaton) so something even less possible (his father communicating to him from beyond) could happen and winds up finishing with a touching story about the importance of film preservation. As someone who enjoys many films made before my birth, I understand and appreciate film preservation; I would pay through the nose for a good copy of His Girl Friday and have been contemplating upgrading my awful copy of Charade for its Criterion Collection version. That does not mean that this is necessarily the right venue for a treatise on film preservation.
But who am I to refuse that adorable mustache?
Despite my reservations, Hugo is a very well-directed and -acted film. Big surprise, right? Hugo gained some attention for being Martin Scorsese's first 3D film, so I suppose I should examine how well he did in this new/1950s format. The short answer is "good." There are not a lot of movies that make good use of 3D. For every Avatar, there are at least six Clash of the Titans. Thankfully, this is a movie that uses 3D for depth, rather than for machetes stabbing the audience. The 3D isn't essential, but it looks good and makes some of the clock scenes far more interesting than they would have been otherwise. Outside of the 3D, Scorsese did a great job. It has been a long time since he has made a risky movie (in my opinion, I would say Kundun was his last big risk), but adapting a children's book was fairly ballsy for a man known more for elevating Joe Pesci than his last family-friendly outing, the music video for Michael Jackson's "Bad."
Am I the only one who forgot about the keyboard solo in this song? I love call-and-response as much as the next guy, but how does Wesley Snipes not shoot MJ in the face here? Still, it is a pleasure to see a master director at work. He manages to blend conventional premises with the source material and winds up with a story that is surprisingly surprising and not nearly as conventional as it initially seems. Most importantly, though, Scorsese succeeds in his ultimate mission;I have to admit that, after seeing this film, I went home and quickly researched Georges Méliès (who directed an astonishing 555 movie shorts in less than twenty years) and was suitably impressed by what I saw. If that is not the ultimate goal of Hugo, I don't know what is.
Is Hugo a great film, worthy of comparison to Scorsese's best work? Definitely not. It absolutely is, though, adorable and heart-warming. This is a nostalgic movie, disguised as something that kids might want to see, and it is disguised well. Is Hugo manipulative? Oh, lord, yes. Thankfully, it doesn't leave you feeling dirty, like Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. It is not a whole lot better than that film, though, for similar reasons. It barely made it into my top ten of last year, but it is still worth watching, especially if you have a fondness for older films. This may not make you want to watch silent movies, but it is at least as effective as The Artist.
My first exposure to Georges Méliès was this music video from Smashing Pumpkins. I don't know what made Billy Corgan choose this as a theme for his video, but it is still pretty cool.
I don't know why, but the buzz I heard about 44 Inch Chest was that it was a risque exploration of misogyny. That's not something that I always enjoy, but I do like British crime stories, and I generally like Ray Winstone, John Hurt, and Ian McShane; I've also heard that the writers, who wrote Sexy Beast, have a talent for over-the-top characters. All of that combined with the tagline ("The Measure of Revenge") to make me think that this could be a decently cool movie.
The story begins with Colin (Ray Winstone) on the floor of his home, which appears to have been recently ransacked. At first, I thought he was dead, but it turns out he was just in shock. You see, his wife of over a decade, Liz (Joanne Whalley) just left him. One of Colin's buddies calls him on the phone, gets a mumbled reply, and hurries over because something is obviously wrong. Once Archie (Tom Wilkinson) is able to comprehend what has happened --- Colin is doing a lot of sobbing and playing Nilsson's "Without You" over and over again, which would be more than enough for me to slap him silly --- he decides to do what any good friend would in a similar situation. Archie calls together Colin's closest friends --- Mal (Stephen Dillane), Peanut (John Hurt), and Meredith (Ian McShane) --- and they all agree that the one way for Colin to get over this emotionally devastating moment is for him to spend time with his friends (obviously), drink a lot of liquor (makes sense) and then torture and murder Liz and her lover (natura --- wait, what?). Colin had dragged loverboy's name out of Liz before she left, so the friends find his work, kidnap him, and throw him in a cupboard until Colin can work up the desire to kill the bastard. What are friends for?
I'm going to go ahead and say that the general premise of this movie is awesome. It takes a classic idea, that of a cuckolded man reacting to his situation with violence, and twists it around; instead of Colin being the bloodthirsty and revenge-obsessed monster, his friends are. In fact, they heckle Colin for not immediately killing loverboy. If I were in Colin's place, I have no doubt that my friends would choose to cheer me up with friendship and booze (and, let's face it, movies), but murder seems like an unusual remedy for soul-crushing depression; I doubt more than one of my friends would suggest that route to happiness.
This was the first full-length motion picture directed by Malcolm Venville, and I like his style. There are large chunks of this movie that take place within the mind of Colin, with his friends personifying his conflicting thoughts. This could have been very confusing, since the friends are physically present as well, but Venville finds a way to differentiate between the imaginary characters and the actual ones. I thought that all the actors were directed well, even if I hate seeing Ray Winstone as anything less than a scary mofo. But even that worked out well; when Winstone switched from sobbing self-pity to helpless rage, the contrast made his anger seem all the more dangerous.
The acting was good all around. As I mentioned, Ray Winstone plays outside of his comfort zone as the heartbroken Colin, but his intensity is still obvious. I would have preferred more of his anger and less of his crying, but that's because I get a little uncomfortable watching frightening men cry. Tom Wilkinson did a good job as the most reasonable and understanding friend of the bunch, although I was never clear on why his character (who seems nice) would be a party to murder. Stephen Dillane, sure, I can buy that. Ian McShane? Definitely. But Wilkinson's character felt a little out of place. I definitely enjoyed McShane's homosexual gambler character; I usually don't include sexual orientation in character descriptions, but it's a significant part of his character. Normally, British crime movies spend a decent amount of time ridiculing gay characters, but McShane's strong and charismatic jerk was a refreshing take. John Hurt was amusing as the hate-spewing Peanut, although his bit about Samson and Delilah was a strange detour in the story. It's hard to judge Joanne Whalley's performance, since it takes place primarily within Colin's tortured mind; she assumes whatever personality suits the plot at that moment, so it's not your typical film performance.
Now, you might assume that I really enjoyed this movie. Well, I didn't.
Despite some clever direction, solid acting, and a good premise, 44 Inch Chest has one major weakness: the story. The premise is established within the first seven minutes of the film; Colin is heartbroken and loverboy is kidnapped. The rest of the movie (about a hour and a half) is Colin deciding whether or not to kill the guy. Let me tell you, that time drags. Nothing happens in this movie after the kidnapping. Each of the friends tells a story about something that loosely relates the their current situation, Colin acts wounded and lame, and then it cycles again. And what is the deal with these friends? None of them appear to be criminals, so their quick and confident kidnapping and their pestering of Colin to kill loverboy is damned odd. They act like professionals, but at least two of them (McShane and Winstone) are explicitly not hoodlums. Leaving that unexplained in a dialogue-heavy movie is very unusual. The dialogue is okay, but it's not fantastic, and it absolutely needs to be when the audience is waiting 90 minutes for one character to make one decision. And that's what this movie boils down to: a lot of good work wasted by a story that could have been told in ten minutes.
Oh boy! Looks like it's time for another aging man to take the law into his own hands when bad guys attack his family (see Death Wish, Taken, or Death Sentence for other examples). Honestly, I am all about revenge as a plot device. It leads to tough guys being bad-ass and bad guys getting hurt in creative ways. What's not to like? Oh, you want character development or subtlety? Read a book.
Edge of Darkness is the American film version of the classic British television series of the same name. Boston detective Thomas Craven (Mel Gibson) has just brought his adult daughter (Bojana Novakovic) to his home, from the train station, when she gets sick. They prepare to rush to the hospital, but when they are on the front stoop of Craven's home, a masked man shouts "Craven!" and shoots...but the daughter Craven gets hit instead of Thomas. And boy, does she get hit! Wow. Yeah, it was a shotgun, but that scene was pretty brutal. Obviously, the police (and Thomas) work under the assumption that the killer was aiming for Thomas and the daughter was an accidental hit. At least, that was Craven's assumption, until he discovered that his daughter was radioactive.
Huh? Radioactive? Really? Excuse me, how can radioactivity fit into my can't-miss revenge movie formula? It can't? Crap.
Yes, Craven's daughter was radioactive and that's why she was sick. Now, I think we all know that you don't just accidentally get radiation poisoning (unless you're making the film adaptation of XXX-Ray Love: The Marie and Pierre Curie Story). There's always some evil corporation and/or government behind it. Such is the case here. Jack Bennett (Danny Huston) is in charge of the evil corporation, which has strong ties to the government. The ties are so strong, in fact, that they receive help from the government, in the form of CIA operative Darius Jedburgh (Ray Winstone). Darius is the guy you send in to cover things up when you don't care how many bodies pile up, as long as the job gets done.
As soon as Craven realizes that his daughter was practically glowing in the dark, he stops acting as a police officer. He takes evidence from her apartment and burns it, in case it incriminated her as an environmental activist. Darius decides to pay Craven a visit at this time; he probably should kill Craven, especially since he's a detective that is clearly veering from the law. This should be the end of the movie. But, Darius likes the cut of Craven's jib, apparently, and encourages Craven to do whatever he has to do, by any means necessary. The second half of the film has Craven doing just that.
I didn't think you could make a revenge movie overcomplicated, but director Martin Campbell made it happen. I just don't understand it. If this movie had just made the daughter an innocent victim, then Craven would have had to pummel his way through the undoubtedly enormous backlog of thugs that he sent to prison. That would have been awesome.
Instead, he "detects" his way around and finds all the answers, nice and neat, relatively quickly and painlessly (aside from his daughter and a few other peripheral characters dying). There is a convoluted cover-up in place, but he has little difficulty getting past it. And I love that there is a corporation at fault, but Craven finds only one guy to blame. And he's right! There is only one person responsible for a radiation-tinged conspiracy. Do you know how evil you have to be to pull that off? Skeletor-level evil. Let's just pretend that corporations occasionally have one evil master that murders innocents in outlandish ways and has the government's help in covering it all up. If I accept that, I find it incredibly hard to swallow that nobody pulls a grassy knoll on Craven's noggin.
And another thing...who is Craven's boss, Mr. Burns? Craven says that he's not taking a leave of absence after his daughter dies. Fine. He then stops by the police station one more time before ignoring it for the rest of the film. The police even call him with updates on his daughter's case, but nobody calls and asks if he's running late, or maybe to ask if he's decided to take that leave? I want that job, right now. Minus the whole thing with my daughter's blood splatter-painting my front door.
This movie frustrates me because it has a lot of potential. Martin Campbell is a good action director (he's directed two good Bond movies) and the cast is decent. Mel Gibson hasn't made a movie in years, but he gets to be a tough guy, which is something he's always been good at. Ray Winstone takes a role that could be played as disinterested or tired and gives his character some depth; he doesn't demand much of the spotlight, but I appreciated his performance. The rest of the supporting cast is unspectacular, but not bad. Jay O. Sanders is decent as Craven's cop buddy, Shawn Roberts does the best he can with a dumb character, and Bojana Novakovic looks somewhat pretty in her limited screen time. I was majorly disappointed by Danny Huston as the evil corporate head. It's not just that his character is one-dimensional, or that he would have been less ridiculous if he had tied Craven's daughter to railroad tracks to kill her. My problem is that Huston plays this unlikable character as completely unlikable. There's no wicked charm, or smart remarks. He's just a douche and you want him to die.
Even with the goofiness of the plot, this is still a decently entertaining movie. Gibson and Winstone are in fine form, and they make up a good portion of the movie. This definitely is an underwhelming return to the screen for Gibson, but it's far from his worst work. It's too bad, really, given what this movie could have been. Still, if you like seeing old men beat up and kill jerks, then this movie has something to offer.
The typical Western has good guys (usually sheriffs or the like) and bad guys (horse thieves, Indians, bank robbers, etc.) fighting in a town that looks like it wouldn't be a terrible place to visit. Sure, it looks a little dirty and there's no running water, but where else can you order a sarsaparilla in a bar and not get any weird looks? In the traditional Western, there are a lot of broad landscape shots, showing how open and rich the country is, and some Westerns will explore that openness, only to return to the warmth of the town at the end.
The Proposition is not that kind of Western. It may take place in the 1880s, but the location alone makes this film noteworthy. Instead of America's vast frontier, this movie takes place in Australia. Not Australia, land of lobsters, wine and the Great Barrier Reef, either. This is the Outback. It is as wide and vast as America's western vista, but it is intimidating instead of inspiring. This is a land that painted in brown and red, with dust and blood baked by the sun into everything you see. This is Australia, the continent-sized penal colony.
With that in mind, it should not be surprising to learn that this is not a typical Western plot. The movie begins with a shootout, where Charlie (Guy Pearce) and Mike Burns are outmanned and outgunned. They are soon captured by the local law, specifically Captain Stanley (Ray Winstone). Apparently, Captain Stanley is hell-bent on "civilizing" Australia, or at least making is resemble England in manners, if not appearances. The biggest lawbreakers (and thus, the most uncivilized force) around is Arthur Burns (Danny Huston) and his gang. Until recently, that gang included Charlie and Mike, but Arthur's bloodthirsty tendencies caused a rift between the brothers. Captain Stanley knows this and wants Arthur dead. He makes Charlie a proposition: Charlie has a few days to find Arthur, kill him, and return to town, or else Mike will be hanged. If Charlie is successful, both he and Mike get a legal pardon.
Of course, nothing's ever that simple. Charlie has to contend with a bounty hunter (John Hurt) and angry Aborigines on his quest to reach Arthur, and then has to decide whether to kill his brother or not. Captain Stanley's job is not much easier. The complete Burns gang (Charlie and Mike included) recently murdered an entire family, pausing only to rape the pregnant wife. Allowing any member of the gang to go free causes considerable distress among the townsfolk. The town wants their pound of flesh, regardless of who is the greater evil.
The Proposition is an interesting movie because there is no character with a clear-cut high moral ground. Yes, Captain Stanley wants to "civilize" Australia, but what does that mean? He brought his young wife to a a lonely wasteland, where they put up a small picket fence and have tea on their porch. These little touches of Britishness are almost tragic in this environment. These details quietly ask "Who is this guy kidding?" Stanley's entire motivation is so out of sync with his environment that it is almost funny. He believes in himself, though, and is willing to kill almost anyone in town to protect the captive Mike Burns from lynching. Charlie Burns is not as complex; he is a bad man that wants to save his delicate (possibly retarded) younger brother. Killing Arthur might even be a relief to Charlie. Arthur doesn't show up until halfway through the film, but lives up to the hype. He is mean and without conscience, but he recites poetry and loves to hear Irish ballads. He really doesn't seem bad until he gets around so-called "civilized" folk.
The cast here is very good. It's always nice to see Guy Pearce in a decent movie, because the man can act. Here, he balances familial duty and conscience well. Ray Winstone does a great job as the Captain. He shows such toughness around men, but shows his weakness with his wife (Emily Watson), although not to her. The supporting cast is fine in relatively one-dimensional roles. Emily Watson is a frightened and lonely wife, surrounded by men who could conceivably rape her with little notice. David Wenham is decent as the highest local authority, acting within the bounds of British law, but not necessarily applying those laws well in Australia. John Hurt does a nice job as the weathered bounty hunter. Tom Budge is eerie as a Burns gang killer with a heavenly voice. Danny Huston steals the show, though. The oddities in his character make him very likable in the quiet Outback scenes, but terrifying when he is on the warpath.
Nick Cave's script (yes, Nick Cave the musician) clearly wants this movie to be on par with the best Sam Peckinpah Westerns, and it comes very close. The only difference between this movie and, for instance, The Wild Bunch, is that this movie doesn't really make you root for the main character. Instead, you sympathize with Ray Winstone and maybe Danny Huston. Director John Hillcoat is relatively inexperienced, but it doesn't show here; he does a fantastic job with the bleak scenery, the mood, and the actors. Ultimately, though, the lack of character for Guy Pearce to work with hampers this film. This isn't a fun viewing experience, so having a sympathetic main character is essential to a good ending. Despite this flaw, the film retains a sense of brutal authenticity. American Westerns don't make the Old West look like much fun (most of the time), but this Western feels like hell.
