A Monster Calls ★★★★☆

There are some stories which express their necessity for existence simply through the way they leave you reeling as the credits roll. From recent memory, Room, 12 Years A Slave, Inside Out and selected others feature in a list where the artistry of a piece alone have elevated it to “must-see” status. 

  

A Monster Calls from J. A. Bayona and penned by the esteemed Patrick Ness from his best-selling novel, finds its place in this abstract category. It tells the tale of a boy (Conor, played by Lewis MacDougal) whose mother (Felicity Jones) is in a downhill battle with a terminal illness, supported by her own mother (Sigourney Weaver); and to help Conor face this labour is a titanic, terrifying monster (Liam Neeson), borne from a tree in the graveyard past his back garden. The Monster tells Conor three stories which are brought beautifully to life in animation that will remind many of the Deathly Hallows story in the 7th Harry Potter film. The tales, which will have you pining for a pop-up storybook of them, are enriched by Neesons bassy tones, creating a tense and thunderous atmosphere.  

These highlights resolve to an almost unbearable emotional intensity, for viewer and thespian alike. It would be easy to give A Monster Calls five stars purely for the power of pathos it demonstrates. My dictionary fails me in my search to define the feeling – part heartache, part joy, part relief, all tears. It’s one of the most perfect instances of cinematic catharsis, grounded by the gripping performances of the whole cast. MacDougal is a revelation, Neeson is petrifrying and Jones puts in one of her best showings.

The biggest negative is that the dialogue feels somewhat clumsy at points. Some lines appear to have been copied straight from the book; sometimes this is to its credit, as Ness’s writing is succinct and tense. When it fails, it is distractingly unpolished with awkward deliveries.  

However, this seems excusable when considering the films audience and doctrine. The Monster and Conor's mother tell parents and kids alike that it not just acceptable to wear your heart on your sleeve in order to face your own fears and emotions – it is necessary to. Any film that can impart such valuable wisdom in such an affecting manner is perfectly allowed to use a bit of clunky dialogue to do so. And that is the most significant argument for A Monster Calls’ existence – a positive, hopeful, practical message tied to characters you deeply care for, despite their faults and conflicts. Patrick Ness and J. A. Bayona will leverage your empathy and compassion in a beautiful way, wringing out every tear – and you'll come out more whole as a result.

Sieranevada ★★★☆☆

One of the most frustrating times of the year for many is the Christmas period; Not because of the incessant jingles or the freezing weather, but rather, the amount of time one is expected to spend with their family. Despite the presumed love we hold for them, they can at times be oh so excruciating to be around, whether it be down to the polarising political views, general food-related arguments or the grating personalities one can only stand once a year.

Sieraneveda, from Cristi Puiu in his seventh directorial outing, is not a Christmas movie. But with its drawing on family tension and feuds for its comedy and drama and its cold, grey, wintery look, you’d be forgiven for thinking so. The film is a 173-minute glimpse into the assorted nuts that make up the family of doctor Lary (Mimi Branescu), as they gather for an afternoon of food and pleasantries on the anniversary of Larys fathers death. Events do not unfold quite the way they expected. Nobody’s allowed to eat because the bishop is late, Aunt Ofelia is crying because her husband has been a neglectful arse and Sebi’s suit is too large. The drama swings from the surreal, when the family tells off Cami for bringing in her drunken, possibly stoned, friend; to the uncomfortable, when Evelina makes Sandra cry with her stoic political stance; to the heartbreaking, when Lary reminisces about his father.

Unfortunately the film also spends a great deal of time in the dull. It plays out in almost real time, forcing us to endure the purgatory-like state the characters do, with excruciating tediousness; The camera is static, claustrophobic, lingering in minutes-long takes without cut, feeling as inert as the plot. The upside to this is that it forms the platform for the laughs, and those come in abundance. Branescu is excellent in his dead-pan humour, bringing levity to even the most tense of scenes. Nobody is above his mockery, not even himself. When a complex and disorienting religious ritual plays out, he is there to have fun; when we are subjected to a barrage of names and faces, he introduces everyone with a joke; and when a husband and wife’s horribly large argument gets out of hand and their son leaves out of frustration, Lary hangs around with that infuriatingly cheeky grin to make everyone realise quite how silly they’re being. If we all had a Lary at our Christmases, he would be the one to remind us that we’re there to enjoy ourselves and be with each other.

The comedy is largely the best part of Sieranevada. The emotional drama doesn’t really reach any kind of climax, the context of recent Charlie Hebdo attacks doesn’t have any bearing on the plot or carry much weight, and the nearly-3-hour length is far from justified. However the film is filled to the brim with poignant moments, whether they be about recognising the banality of life after a death; about how the most pedantic of traditions can be a comfort; or about understanding there is always room for laughter even during the most intense family squabbles. For all of its faults, Sieranevda will leave you ponderous and amused and, as Lary knows, that is a feeling worth basking in.

Wiener-Dog ★★★★☆

In the first of the four stories in Todd Solondz’ comedy-drama Wiener-Dog, Remi (Keaton Nigel Cooke), a young cancer survivor with emotionally absent parents, concludes that life is pointless, death has no meaning and that nothing really matters. His mother’s feeble attempts to convince him otherwise helps represent the themes of death, grief and the different approaches to those, which permeate the four tales we are subjected to. Solondz, however, is not content to stick to something quite so mundane and sincere as a young boy with cancer trying to understand death – he instead puts his own, irreverent twist on the solemn subject and it is here that Wiener-Dog becomes something entirely unexpected.

Wiener-Dog is a perfectly normal, uninspiring canine who, over the course of 88 minutes, meets four different protagonists, each successively older than the last – Remi, Brandon (Kieran Culkin), Dave (Danny Devito) and Nana (Ellen Burstyn). They are all either facing or have faced death and are experiencing the consequences of it. In death’s wake, each are forced to reflect on their regrets and failures, and each come to different conclusions on how their lives should progress. Each story follows the line of screenwriter Dave’s formula for plot line success – “What If… Then What?” And that by and large is the essence of every story – What if a boy with cancer was given a pet dog?; What if a young woman with a dog met an old crush?; What if an middle-aged, failed professor was told he was on his last legs?; And what if an OAP was visited by her desperate and pleading granddaughter?

Meanwhile, the wiener-dog, under different guises, brings pure, hedonistic joy to each of the characters at times when they need it – to distract them, to provide comfort, or even to give them a means to an end. More than this, however, it enforces the more unorthodox sermon that Solondz preaches – one of pure nihilism; or rather, that life and death really are devoid of worth and if that’s true, then nothing has any meaning whatsoever. It’s from this line of thinking that the film finds it’s pure randomness, the theme that has turned off swathes of audience members.

Solondz plays with us, mocks us – he’ll have us watch a minutes-long tracking shot of festering diarrhoea faeces; or an awkward performance of a depressed mariachi band; or a Damian Hirst-despising “interactive artist” called Fantasy. These moments fail to tie into any plot lines as seamlessly as they should, and instead jar the audience. Solondz is not trying to pass this off as inherently artistic - rather, he is anti art, anti meaning. It is almost Dadaist in quality, right down to the very ending when our beloved wiener-dog is violently run over, repeatedly, his innards staining the tarmac.

It’s crass, disturbing and unfair to an audience who has had to sit through some of the more awkward points (the first story is particularly unpolished). Worse, it’s underlying nihilistic thought process is at odds with the four stories, where Solondz gives us moments of tenderness and humanity. He reels us in, teasing the order and compassion of a more typical drama, then snatches them away to give us a non-sequitur, jeering all the while. If Solondz had Twitter, he'd be a troll.

For all of that dizzying tomfoolery, however, the film is certainly funny. Even without the erratic surrealism, Wiener-Dog extracts humour from it’s excellent cast. Devito, Culkin, Burstyn and Greta Gerwig (playing Dawn) are all grounded, dry and effortless in their comedy. They are the highs of a film that seeks to confuse and frustrate. Despite the characters they portray resorting to the apathy that Solondz promotes, the actors grant them enough humanity to make them empathetic.

The film is neither as dramatic nor perfect as perhaps it should be, but then, it isn't really aiming for that. Wiener-Dog is designed to be divisive, controversial and shocking in order to have us let go of any sense of meaning or art. So if you’re conflicted by the random intermission, the casual planned terrorist attack or the bloody dog vomit and are unsure what to feel, consider taking a leaf from Todd Solondz’ book and deciding that it doesn’t matter anyway.

Finding Dory ★★★★☆

Finding Dory, directed by Pixar alumnus Andrew Stanton, faces more than "how do you follow up Finding Nemo?" It also has to answer, "how do you follow up Monsters University and Cars 2?", the studio's last two features to lean on preexisting stories, and which seemed to hit a snag Pixar had not faced before. Despite the successes of two excellent Toy Story sequels, Monsters University and Cars 2 never felt like they were breaking new ground. Considering Pixar's ultimate strengths - originality built into heartwarming stories - it was odd to find they may have a sequel problem. It would be a particularly troubling issue since three of their next four releases are sequels to their existing films.

Finding Dory hits similar snags as Monsters University and Cars 2 to a degree. The plot is the story of Dory, a blue tang fish played by the affable Ellen DeGeneres, one day remembering she has a mother and father and setting off on an adventure to find them, accompanied by her friends Marlin and Nemo, voiced by Albert Brooks and Hayden Rolence. It feels clunky at points and set pieces don't interweave quite so elegantly as Pixar's original films. However, much to it's credit, Finding Dory finds room to breathe in the moments we spend with Dory and her interactions with her friends and family, old and new. And it's here that the film finds it's feet and shines.

Dory is as hilarious and loveable as she was in Finding Nemo. However, her ailment of short-term memory loss now takes a somewhat darker tone and for the first time, we're made to connect with Dory on an emotional level. We glimpse her life as an infant fish and that makes it all the more heartbreaking when we cut back to her struggling to remember it. The great strength of the film is taking what made Dory so funny in the original film and making us realise that it's a lot more painful for her. When she repeatedly introduces herself to a class, we laugh, but there's an undertone of unease for her. But by taking away Dory's memory as her defining personality trait, we're made to see her other qualities - her happy-go-lucky spirit, her determination and her care for those she loves. It makes Dory funnier and more enjoyable to watch, which is saying a lot for an already universally adored character. It's really grown-up stuff, yet shown so successfully in a way family films rarely accomplish.

This exploration of Dory's character is extrapolated further in the way her relationships are presented. Her parents, more than just the object of desire, represent her journey of self discovery. The film is less concerned about Dory's interactions with her parents, and more about how it forms her character and her interactions with other fish. It has a knock-on effect to how she is with Marlin and Nemo, who have a complicated relationship with her. Indeed, the development of their friendship is one of the strongest points of the film, making the clownfish an integral and enjoyable part of the story, and the audience's way in to understanding Dory.

Finally is Dory's new friend, Hank the septopus (having lost a tentacle), gifted a rich, bassy voice by Ed O'Neill. Grumpy but warm, Hank is one of the funniest characters and it's a joy to watch him flail his limbs and camouflage himself - the end credits are a particular delight for this. His strained collaboration with Dory is a little by the book, but it hardly matters. Finding Dory is so uncynical and full of heart, any dodgy plot points are instantly forgiven - it is telling that, in a room full of young families, not a single child was disruptive barring raucous laughter and even then, the grown ups were louder.

Further to Pixar's sequel success is Andrew Stanton's direction in cinematography. How easy it would be for the animators to walk the beaten path and return to the stunning corals and deep blues that captivated us in Finding Nemo. Instead, they find new underwater locations to set the film apart and relish in supreme detail outside of the water, where much of the film takes place. It's impressively partnered with Stanton's wide frames, that emphasize the staggering size of the ocean and underscore Dory and co's gigantic journey, as well the blue tang's immense loneliness. Pixar have looked bigger than a paint-by-numbers sequel to one of their most loved features - they have approached every aspect with fresh enthusiasm to do something different and their newest film is better for it, for fans, families and critics alike.

With Finding Dory, Pixar seem to have worked out the formula to intertextual film success outside of the Toy Story franchise, which bodes well in today's Hollywood and children's movies climate (the latter of which is experiencing its most competitive era ever). It's a recurring theme amongst recent Disney properties, which have been dominating third week box office figures, suggesting they can churn out fan favourites at a rate of knots. Whilst Pixar's strengths will always lie in their groundbreaking originality, Finding Dory ensures their future's bright for their expanded stories.

Short Film, Short Review - Piper

Giving us a glimpse into the life of the sandpiper (small birds which scavenge the seaside sand in search of food), Piper is a delight to watch. With a bouncing musical score to give life to a dialogue-empty story and a stunning micro perspective into a baby sandpipers struggle, Piper will extract a smile from even the grumpiest of viewers.