I really love Piers Morgan!

Need for Speed

(2014)

(SPOILERS) The elusive potential goldmine that is the video game adaptation. How many have been a success? Critically, next to none. Commercially, the Resident Evil series is about it. There are the precious few first instalments that instilled apathy (Tomb Raider, Mortal Kombat), but the odds are seriously against any lucky feeling studio making any serious dough. That may change (there are several interesting names attached to several interesting projects) but it wont be this year. Need for Speed will probably make a profit when all’s told, but as an attempt to cash in on the success of the Fast & Furious franchise it fizzles, and as a prospective dumb-but-fun auto-racing movie it’s a dud.

I think it’s probably fair to suggest that the only way to approach a big cross-country pursuit movie is not to treat it entirely seriously, particularly since the scenario where taking off as an act of rebellion against society and the squares while dogged by the fuzz has long since lacked resonance (like, since the ‘70s). Director Scott Waugh seems oblivious to this, treating the whole affair with a crippling lack of levity (and what there is, is painfully forced).

A stunt co-ordinator turned director (his first was Act of Valor), Waugh knows where to put the camera (he’s especially fond of in-car shots –so you know the actors were really there!) but on this evidence he has problems editing his action together coherently. The results remind me of the choppy work that litters Simon West’s early career. Speaking of which, there are also attempts at Bruckheimer-esque rousing airborne panorama shots with that old favourite of the constantly moving camera; they’re passé though, aping older and better movies. The picture as a whole feels like everyone involved has been second-guessing, but that shouldn’t be a surprise given the abundance of missteps DreamWorks has made lately. Any given choice is likely to be a bad one, unless the ‘berg himself is involved.

His involvement here extended to picking Aaron Paul for the plum role of Tobey Marshall, a former racer out for revenge after old rival Dino Brewster (Dominic Cooper, knowing that the only thing to do with a role like his is relish the irredeemable villainy) not only gets his pal killed in an impromptu road race but lies about it to boot. Two years later, out of jail and on parole, Marshall assembles his old crew of garage buddies with a revenge plan that entails getting picked for the De Leon, a race organised by racing buff Monarch (Michael Keaton); the winner takes the other competitors’ cars (not much point if they’ve all crashed en route, I’d have thought). This requires attracting the requisite attention (and thus an invite from Monarch) and reaching the venue in a madcap 48-hour drive from New York to California.

Waugh’s decision to eschew CGI is admirable but, when a script is as wholly ludicrous as this one, attempts at realism are entirely misplaced. If you don’t play this knowingly, you look very silly and, with a grim-faced payback plot at the core, that’s exactly what Need for Speed quickly becomes. Instead of thriving on the clichés it exhumes, the movie is buried by them. There’s none of the infectious fun of the (best of the) Fast & Furious series, and the ensemble of Marshall’s helpers strain for absent chemistry and empty laughs (Harrison Gilbertson, Scott Mescudi, Ramon Rodriguez and an especially irritating Rami Malek; he wants to be exuberant and cheeky but is just loud and annoying).

There are attempts to circumnavigate the gross irresponsibility of these young hoodlums and then their petrol head antics – Mescudi provides an air spotting service to ensure members of the public don’t get run over – but it’s impossible to ignore the fact that pretty much everything that happens is a result of Tobey’s brashness and rashness. Yeah, Dino is a massive wanker, but Tobey continually rises to the bait. He gets involved in a business deal to rebuild a Ford Shelby Mustang when his chums warn him against it. And then, when he has his profit in the bag (assuming Dino doesn’t stiff him), he childishly risks everything to massage his ego and jumps into a race that results in one of his friends getting killed.

Later he unveils his plan to get even, but it’s unfathomable quite how he expects this to play out since everything that happens is either the result of Julia (Imogen Poots) rallying to his side or the result of enormously lucky coincidences (one of the cast even has to ask “Why wouldn’t he destroy it?” of the car Dino used to ram Tobey’s pal off the road; it’s the old “trick” of, if you’ve got a really, really, stupid plot development in store, draw attention to it in the hope audiences will just accept what’s in full view). Then, instead of having a sensibly recuperative night-in pre-race, and having antagonised Dino whom he knows is a psycho, Tobey goes out for a drive and acts surprised when someone puts him in a car wreck.

This might be less of a problem if Paul exuded anything but dead-eyed intensity. Spielberg liked him, as does everyone, for Breaking Bad, but on the evidence of this he doesn’t have what it takes as a leading man (which is fine, a good supporting actor often gets better parts). The danger is, Paul might end up being seen as one-trick pony. Can he play other types? Stony severity isn’t the boost this movie needed, and it’s left to both the Brits to take the acting honours.

There’s something a bit weasely about Cooper that makes him perfect for bad guys but unconvincing as heroes. He’s sensible enough to betray not an ounce of humanity as Dino (Dakota Johnson, who I understand is supposed to be a next big thing, barely registers as his girlfriend; also Tobey’s ex and the sister of the poor wee lamb who gone done and got blew up). The real star of the show is Poots, however, who has a habit of shining in less-than-sterling roles. She turns the posh “tart” (as Monarch calls her) role to her advantage, and ekes a fair degree of amusement playing off Paul’s impassive petulance. She also inspires a line no one would countenance on this side of the Atlantic (one would hope for better across the Pond too, and I’m going to charitably assume it was meant ironically); “I really love Piers Morgan!”

It’s the only memorable line here, with one caveat. The chases don’t linger in the mind either. There needed to be a Roscoe P Coltrane type in hot pur-suit of Tobey, rather than Waugh wasting time (this film is drastically over-long) on him driving the wrong way up streets or – almost, only almost, likeably stupid, since the amount of effort involved would have made it much quicker to stop for a couple of minutes – refuelling in transit. Nothing here is cool, and nor are any of the sequences suitably adrenalising. To misquote the estimable Point Break, Need is young, dumb, and... really dumb. Even with all the havoc and mayhem caused, all the lives endangered, and the ruination of homeless folks’ shopping trolleys, Tobey is such a wonderful chap that he saves Dino at a crucial moment. The problem isn’t that; it’s that there’s no spirit here, no joie de vivre. Tobey isn’t about a need for freedom and expressing his individuality; he’s all unrefined rictus rancor.

The races themselves – topping and tailing the movie - have little sense of route, geography or opponents (aside from Dino); the kind of fundamentals required to make such automotive antics engaging. Waugh must take the co-blame as co-editor. The cinematography is bold and bright, but wasted amid the general incoherence. The soundtrack is just a loud mess, which matches the general tone. The screenplay, credited to George Gatins, is telling his first (brother John gets a story credit; his past efforts include the poxy Real Steel and half decent Flight).

The caveat I mentioned earlier relates to Keaton, who is an incongruous kind of car enthusiast, but whose improv (“Racers should race, cops should eat donuts”) gives the picture a turbo charge whenever he appears – even if it’s just by way of voiceover. Keaton’s profile has lifted recently, which is long overdue. On this evidence (he’s also one of the better things in the Robocop remake) he’s in fine shape and of suitably quick mind should Beetlejuice 2 ever get off the ground.

I’m smarter than a beaver.

Prey (2022) (SPOILERS) If nothing else, I have to respect Dan Trachtenberg’s cynical pragmatism. How do I not only get a project off the ground, but fast-tracked as well? I know, a woke Predator movie! Woke Disney won’t be able to resist! And so, it comes to pass. Luckily for Prey , it gets to bypass cinemas and so the same sorry fate of Lightyear . Less fortunately, it’s a patience-testing snook cocking at historicity (or at least, assumed historicity), in which a young, pint-sized Comanche girl who wishes to hunt and fish – and doubtless shoot to boot – with the big boys gets to take on a Predator and make mincemeat of him. Well, of course , she does. She’s a girl, innit?

I’m the famous comedian, Arnold Braunschweiger.

Last Action Hero (1993) (SPOILERS) Make no mistake, Last Action Hero is a mess. But even as a mess, it might be more interesting than any other movie Arnie made during that decade, perhaps even in his entire career. Hellzapoppin’ (after the 1941 picture, itself based on a Broadway revue) has virtually become an adjective to describe films that comment upon their own artifice, break the fourth wall, and generally disrespect the convention of suspending disbelief in the fictions we see parading across the screen. It was fairly audacious, some would say foolish, of Arnie to attempt something of that nature at this point in his career, which was at its peak, rather than playing it safe. That he stumbled profoundly, emphatically so since he went up against the behemoth that is Jurassic Park (slotted in after the fact to open first), should not blind one to the considerable merits of his ultimate, and final, really, attempt to experiment with the limits of his screen persona.

If you ride like lightning, you're going to crash like thunder.

The Place Beyond the Pines (2012) (SPOILERS) There’s something daringly perverse about the attempt to weave a serious-minded, generation-spanning saga from the hare-brained premise of The Place Beyond the Pines . When he learns he is a daddy, a fairground stunt biker turns bank robber in order to provide for his family. It’s the kind of “only-in-Hollywood” fantasy premise you might expect from a system that unleashed Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man and Point Break on the world. But this is an indie-minded movie from the director of the acclaimed Blue Valentine ; it demands respect and earnest appraisal. Unfortunately it never recovers from the abject silliness of the set-up. The picture is littered with piecemeal characters and scenarios. There’s a hope that maybe the big themes will even out the rocky terrain but in the end it’s because of this overreaching ambition that the film ends up so undernourished. The inspiration for the movie

Everyone creates the thing they dread.

Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015) (SPOILERS) Avengers: Age of Ultron ’s problem isn’t one of lack. It benefits from a solid central plot. It features a host of standout scenes and set pieces. It hands (most of) its characters strong defining moments. It doesn’t even suffer now the “wow” factor of seeing the team together for the first time has subsided. Its problem is that it’s too encumbered. Maybe its asking to much of a director to effectively martial the many different elements required by an ensemble superhero movie such as this, yet Joss Whedon’s predecessor feels positively lean in comparison. Part of this is simply down to the demands of the vaster Marvel franchise machine. Seeds are laid for Captain America: Civil War , Infinity Wars I & II , Black Panther and Thor: Ragnarok . It feels like several spinning plates too many. Such activity occasionally became over-intrusive on previous occasions ( Iron Man II ), but there are points in Age of Ultron whe

Death to Bill and Ted!

Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey (1991) (SPOILERS) The game of how few sequels are actually better than the original is so well worn, it was old when Scream 2 made a major meta thing out of it (and it wasn’t). Bill & Ted Go to Hell , as Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey was originally called, is one such, not that Excellent Adventure is anything to be sneezed at, but this one’s more confident, even more playful, more assured and more smartly stupid. And in Peter Hewitt it has a director with a much more overt and fittingly cartoonish style than the amiably pedestrian Stephen Herrick. Evil Bill : First, we totally kill Bill and Ted. Evil Ted : Then we take over their lives. My recollection of the picture’s general consensus was that it surpassed the sleeper hit original, but Rotten Tomatoes’ review aggregator suggests a less universal response. And, while it didn’t rock any oceans at the box office, Bogus Journey and Point Break did quite nicely for Keanu Reev

I think it’s pretty clear whose side the Lord’s on, Barrington.

Monte Carlo or Bust aka Those Daring Young Men in Their Jaunty Jalopies (1969) (SPOILERS) Ken Annakin’s semi-sequel to Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines tends to be rather maligned, usually compared negatively to its more famous predecessor. Which makes me rather wonder if those expressing said opinion have ever taken the time to scrutinise them side by side. Or watch them back to back (which would be more sensible). Because Monte Carlo or Bust is by far the superior movie. Indeed, for all its imperfections and foibles (not least a performance from Tony Curtis requiring a taste for comic ham), I adore it. It’s probably the best wacky race movie there is, simply because each set of competitors, shamelessly exemplifying a different national stereotype (albeit there are two pairs of Brits, and a damsel in distress), are vibrant and cartoonish in the best sense. Albeit, it has to be admitted that, as far as said stereotypes go, Annakin’s home side win

This entire edifice you see around you, built on jute.

Jeeves and Wooster 3.3: Cyril and the Broadway Musical (aka Introduction on Broadway) Well, that’s a relief. After a couple of middling episodes, the third season bounces right back, and that's despite Bertie continuing his transatlantic trip. Clive Exton once again plunders Carry On, Jeeves but this time blends it with a tale from The Inimitable Jeeves for the brightest spots, as Cyril Basington-Basington (a sublimely drippy Nicholas Hewetson) pursues his stage career against Aunt Agatha's wishes.

Just because you are a character doesn't mean that you have character.

Pulp Fiction (1994) (SPOILERS) From a UK perspective, Pulp Fiction ’s success seemed like a fait accompli; Reservoir Dogs had gone beyond the mere cult item it was Stateside and impacted mainstream culture itself (hard to believe now that it was once banned on home video); it was a case of Tarantino filling a gap in the market no one knew was there until he drew attention to it (and which quickly became over-saturated with pale imitators subsequently). Where his debut was a grower, Pulp Fiction hit the ground running, an instant critical and commercial success (it won the Palme d’Or four months before its release), only made cooler by being robbed of the Best Picture Oscar by Forrest Gump . And unlike some famously-cited should-have-beens, Tarantino’s masterpiece really did deserve it.

Poetry in translation is like taking a shower with a raincoat on.

Paterson (2016) (SPOILERS) Spoiling a movie where nothing much happens is difficult, but I tend to put the tag on in a cautionary sense much of the time. Paterson is Jim Jarmusch at his most inert and ambient but also his most rewardingly meditative. Paterson (Adam Driver), a bus driver and modest poet living in Paterson, New Jersey, is a stoic in a fundamental sense, and if he has a character arc of any description, which he doesn’t really, it’s the realisation that is what he is. Jarmusch’s picture is absent major conflict or drama; the most significant episodes feature Paterson’s bus breaking down, the English bull terrier Marvin – whom Paterson doesn’t care for but girlfriend Laura (Golshifteh Farahani) dotes on – destroying his book of poetry, and an altercation at the local bar involving a gun that turns out to be a water pistol. And Paterson takes it all in his stride, genial to the last, even the ruination of his most earnest, devoted work (the only disappoint

Your Mickey Mouse is one big stupid dope!

Enemy Mine (1985) (SPOILERS) The essential dynamic of Enemy Mine – sworn enemies overcome their differences to become firm friends – was a well-ploughed one when it was made, such that it led to TV Tropes assuming, since edited, that it took its title from an existing phrase (Barry Longyear, author of the 1979 novella, made it up, inspired by the 1961 David Niven film The Best of Enemies ). The Film Yearbook Volume 5 opined that that Wolfgang Petersen’s picture “ lacks the gritty sauciness of Hell in the Pacific”; John Boorman’s WWII film stranded Lee Marvin and Toshiro Mifune on a desert island and had them first duking it out before becoming reluctant bedfellows. Perhaps germanely, both movies were box office flops.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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