Greg writes

So earlier this week, I departed for Orlando in order to attend a wedding. Now if you’re anything like me on a long-ish flight, you won’t sensibly rest in order to arrive at your destination revitalised and sprightly – you’ll enjoy whatever new films you have at your disposal before touching down on the other side groggily bleary-eyed (and God forbid you should ever not be able to finish a movie due to poorly judged timings… guilty, * ahem *). I began by watching…

Wonder Woman (dir. Patty Jenkins)

To be perfectly honest, these days I don’t tend to watch much superhero fare. However, I had heard glowing things about Patty Jenkins’ Wonder Woman and decided that I would be remiss not to give it a try. Wonder Woman provides an origin story for its titular character (first name: Diana), portrayed here by Gal Gadot with oodles of charisma, conviction and general bad-assery.

The gist: We join Diana’s story on her hidden and native homeland of Themyscira. Even as a young Amazon princess, Diana displays an unquenchable longing to fight and train alongside her island sisters. Whilst her warrior aunt (Robin Wright) encourages Diana’s fervour, her mother, Queen Hippolyta (Connie Nielsen) fears for her fate: the revengeful Ares still lies dormant in the world, eager to snuff out a so-called ‘God killer’. With the unexpected arrival of Chris Pine’s American spy, Steve Trevor, oblivious island life is shaken by news of the Great War.

Thoughts: Well, although I probably should have been patient enough to have watched this on a bigger screen (as I’m sure it must have looked stunning in the cinema), there’s no doubt that I enjoyed myself. The film is pleasingly patient in establishing its main character in her home setting: some truly amazing fight scenes take place on Themyscira and the appearance of the island is gorgeously presented by Jenkins and her cinematographer, Matthew Jensen. However, the arrival of Chris Pine’s character into the tranquillity of the opening setting is accompanied by a tiresome trope: the dreaded Germans are the bad guys once again. Wonder Woman attempts to justify its slaughter of the enemy by insisting that they are not the true villains: the villain is Ares himself, who slyly manipulates the minds of men into hating one another. This justification aside, I was disappointed that the film had not attempted to tackle a more complex or challenging issue.

As Diana’s determination to get to the front increases, she joins Steve on his journey back to Europe, where she is met with the smoggy chaos of London and muddy horror of the trenches. Lucy Davis soon bumbles into the film as Steve’s English secretary, and provides some good laughs. Meanwhile, David Thewlis is also a welcome addition as Cabinet Minister, Sir Patrick.

Diana and Steve proceed to embark on their journey into the warzone with the help of a motley, international crew, comprised of French Moroccan secret agent, Sameer, Scottish Sniper, Charlie and Chief Napi, a Native American smuggler who seems fond of explosives. Again, I struggled with the heavy-handedness of cultural depictions with these characters. ‘Chief’, whose home has been taken in America explains that he has nowhere else to go and thus inexplicably arrives at the front, whilst Charlie experiences post-traumatic nightmares, bellows wildly at Diana for trying to help him and uses alcohol as a crutch. The gang, as likeable as they are, all just come across a bit too blatant. It feels like Jenkins has gone too far out of her way in order to present a diverse unit.

Despite my issues with the film, Wonder Woman impresses with how much heart it conveys. We feel for Diana as she carries her curse and Gadot portrays her as both admirable and relatably human. And visually, despite my mini screen, the film looks incredible and the action sequences are hugely satisfying. Wonder Woman grants Diana with a worthy origin story that is arguably DC Films’ best cinematic outing to date.

Out of 5: ***

The gist: Malik, an Arab youth finds himself imprisoned in Brécourt at the age of nineteen, charged of attacking police officers. Isolated and in perilous surroundings, he soon finds himself under the protection of an unlikely collective: a brutal Corsican gang, led by boss, César Luciani.

Thoughts: In the darkened and cacophonous corridors of a bustling jail, Jacques Audiard’s A Prophet slowly blinks into focus. A terrified and bewildered Malik (Tahar Rahim) shrinks from jeering inmates but accepts his lot: six years of incarceration in Northern France. Friendless and vulnerable, Malik is soon coerced into making a potential problem disappear, at the insistence of Niels Arestrup’s César, a frighteningly unstable criminal who controls the prison and its guards.

If the set-up of Audiard’s film sounds bleak, that’s because it is. The Brécourt bastille is an imposing and seemingly hopeless setting, divided mainly between two factions, the Corsican and Muslim inmates, who vie for power against one another. However, despite Malik’s misfortune, his story is one of hope, self-betterment and education – Reyeb, a fellow Arab explains to Malik that “the idea is to leave here a little smarter”. For all its violence and rage, A Prophet also astounds in its searing and innocent beauty. We look on as Malik observes an out of reach life through the barred windows of a police van as young people chat happily at the edge of a fountain. Over the course of his six years inside, we also witness a collection of firsts for the young man. Parole days not only allow Malik to conduct business dealings for César, but also give him time to savour novelties. When travelling by plane for the first time, he stares disbelievingly out of the window, the passenger he looks over numb to the view. On the outside, we see him gulp the fresh air of a crisp morning to the sound of recently awoken birds, paddle in the shallows of a clear sea and enjoy the company of close friends over dinner. Simple but precious experiences, so easily ignored.

Alongside such life-affirming instances, Malik becomes more and more deeply embroiled within the criminal underworld and confronts the fact that in order to succeed he must begin to work for himself, no longer solely the “eyes and ears” of his boss. In partnership with his close friend Ryad (Adel Bencherif), Malik seeks to go his own way but at great personal risk.

As obvious as it might be to observe, what I love so much about A Prophet is that its main character undergoes such a major, personal journey – he genuinely comes “a long way”, as a rival kingpin puts it. He grows throughout the course of the film and reacts to plausible situations in believable ways: hands shake before guns are fired and voices falter between perpetrators as crimes are knowingly committed. And how the director ever got me to feel pity for César… (you’ll see what I mean when you watch it)… I will never know. Bravo, Monsieur.

The gist: Four New York real estate salesmen are given an ultimatum: start selling or get fired. Over the course of a sodden night in the city, desperate circumstances begin to force hands.

Thoughts: “Are they all here?... Well I’m going anyway.” And so begins Alec Baldwin’s Blake as he tears into the Mitch & Murray real estate team, comprised of Jack Lemmon’s silky-smooth but down on his luck Shelley Levene, the exasperated Dave Moss (Ed Harris) and Alan Arkin’s hapless yes-man, George. Meanwhile next door, Al Pacino’s top biller Ricky Roma begins to lure in an unwitting mark (Jonathan Pryce). Like Balwin’s fast-talking, motivational speaker, David Mamet’s Glengarry Glen Ross is uncompromising in its subject matter and blissfully unapologetic in its use of profanity: the film contains one of the greatest verbal dressing-downs ever committed to screen, as we witness Roma hone in on the shrinking office manager (Kevin Spacey) for costing him a sale: “Where did you learn your trade?!… Whoever told you you could work with men?... You fairy. You company man.” With the abundance of expletives in mind, it’s no wonder to learn that the cast affectionately referred to Glengarry as “Death of a Fuckin’ Salesman”.

I first encountered Mamet’s adaptation of his original play whilst trawling through IMDb during university. The moment I clocked the cast I knew, in all likelihood, that I was not going to regret checking it out… I mean, the ensemble here is genuinely something else – and everybody is on point to a tee. Jack Lemmon thrills as Shelley, an old legend of the game all at once defiant in the face of exploitative company tactics from “downtown” and a man who will truly go the distance in order to provide for his sickly daughter. Ed Harris and Alan Arkin as the see-sawing, frustrated double-act of the film provide some initial comic relief, with Arkin playing George here as more innocent and less dim-witted than his stage counterpart. Notably, Arkin developed a new backstory for the character during filming and commented on the challenging rhythm of the dialogue, which stabs rapidly between the actors throughout. Here, Kevin Spacey’s gleeful greed and lack of conscience foreshadow such roles as Frank Underwood and Keyser Söze – the young office manager revels in the straggling of the men beneath him. And lest we forget Pacino and Jonathan Pryce, the hunter and prey ruminating on life in a smoky restaurant from the outset of the film. Pacino’s intriguing variation of volume and syntax elevate Roma’s enticing and existential musings to new heights. Simultaneously, his anger as a working man slighted, is both terrible to behold and incredible to watch. Pryce of course is no stranger to a stage-play himself, and convinces ably as a meandering New Yorker, easily coaxed into signing on the dotted line, if only to break away from a linear existence.

With such supreme dialogue coupled with one of the finest film casts ever assembled, I can safely say that Glengarry is in my top ten – number ten to be precise (I established that, right?). If you’ve never had the pleasure, then it’s worth bearing in mind that this is a play brought to the screen. Scenes only really take place in a handful of locales, but like 12 Angry Men before it, that doesn’t stop it from being a wonderful piece of work.

For far, far too long now, I have been guilty of saying that I am going to write something.... and never actually doing it. I have no excuse to cower behind, no pressing objective to complete and no better time to begin. But what will I be writing about? Well, for the most part I adore talking about, reading about and watching films. I could go down the rabbit hole of how and why this is the case, but then I would be denying you, dear reader, of a superlative and life-changing future blog post. For now I’ll keep it simple: I’ll attempt to review whatever I can get my eyes on in the cinema (that works, right?), revisit old favourites and hopefully get around to seeing some great things that I’ve inevitably missed... and as this is Tumblr, I suppose the occasional digression is totally warranted - I’m also fond of music and taking far too many photos. These things will be coming your way too, I hope.