No Caine, No Gain

It’s funny. As I chatted with my cousin while on the way to see Logan, I mentioned one of the most frustrating aspects of comic book movies – that it is somehow expected that the newest effort has to outdo the previous one, which is then interpreted by going bigger in the realm of special effects and mind-numbing final battles that end up feeling more than ludicrous (even for a sci fi fantasy). That is why I was so pleasantly surprised by James Mangold’s 2017 offering; a more personal, pared down feature that, at its heart, is about learning to live with your past, as well as recovery and redemption. Taking a page from the popularity of last year’s Deadpool, Logan does not hold back in the realm of violence, profanity, and one small moment of nudity. Set approximately a decade into the future, the opening shot may be jarring to some fans of the X-Men franchise. When we first see Hugh Jackman’s titular character – his big, bushy beard (not the perfectly trimmed mutton chops) and hair flecked with grey, it is an aged Wolverine like we have never seen. He more closely resembles a modern day Mel Gibson (perhaps after a lengthy bender) than the regenerative, sarcastic being we know and love. He is haggard, depressed and has lost a step. . . maybe even two. It is a world that has not seen the birth of a mutant in quite some time, and these gifted individuals are dying out.

A woman – bruised, battered and alone in a cool, sterile bathroom, attempting to lick her copious wounds (literally and figuratively) prior to being brought before an equally uninviting clandestine location filled with higher ups is the lead in (to clarify, it is the second scene) to the new David Leitch (co-director of the first John Wick) action thriller Atomic Blonde – based on the graphic novel “The Coldest City” by Antony Johnston and Sam Hart. Set during the last days of the Cold War, the female spy is Lorraine Broughton (Charlize Theron), an MI6 agent who, ten days previously, had been sent into Berlin to complete an unenvious mission. Retelling her tale to her twitchy superior, Eric Gray (Toby Jones), and the seemingly more daunting CIA agent, Emmett Kurzfeld (John Goodman), she is watched closely by Chief ‘C’ (James Faulkner), who sits just behind a one-way mirror – it feels like the dame is utterly alone, perhaps more fragile than she has ever been before.

There are certain songs that are just conducive to driving – "Baby, You Can Drive My Car" (The Beatles), "Crosstown Traffic" (Jimi Hendrix). . . or, perhaps, if you’re like those in David Cronenberg’s erotic, accident seeking film Crash, "Hit Me Baby One More Time" (Britney Spears). This is the genesis of the new 2017 movie Baby Driver – the soundtrack belongs to the young getaway driver, listening to his playlist as he puts the pedal to the metal and "Lets the Good Times Roll" (The Cars). An impressive example of music in motion, writer/director Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead; Hot Fuzz) develops a highly original concept that in some ways feels like a musical. A quasi-form of Mickey Mousing (when music and action match up onscreen), the film is uniformly paired with the tracks heard throughout – edited and sometimes even lip synched/danced to by the characters. Look to the examples of the tunes highlighted above, as I’ve decided to have some fun with this review and interlace the names of different songs throughout – some that are featured in Baby Driver and some that just help describe the story and action.

Alfred Hitchcock once said "if it’s a good movie, the sound could go off and the audience would still have a perfectly clear idea of what was going on". A perfect example of this is the first sixteen minutes of the 1972 action film The Mechanic. Directed by Michael Winner and starring Charles Bronson (the pair, who had made one film previously, would go on to make a total of six together), the plot follows an aging hit-man in Los Angeles. The opening sixteen minutes is a masterclass in patience, restraint and telling a visual story, without any dialogue. We watch as the man, named Arthur Bishop, intricately plans his next kill. No dialogue is needed to make this an effective scene, as it captures a tense atmosphere and places us in the mind set of our lead, as we now know that he has a deft touch at killing and is not to be messed with. It is a bold choice to open a movie and it is all the richer for it.

A perfect case of ‘just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in’, John Wick: Chapter 2 starts off soon after the original feature. Starting with a video of Buster Keaton projected onto a New York City wall, Wick (Keanu Reeves) is like one of those silent film stars of the 1920s – though much more violent. A man of few words, he bumps, crashes and bangs his way through foes, a wandering ‘tramp’ with no true home, albeit, wealthier, better dressed and much more connected. Keaton, nicknamed "The Great Stone Face" has the same stoic demeanor as our protagonist – who, for the most part, plays things close to the vest.

Filmed with visual panache, Eran Creevy’s Welcome to the Punch gives London a cold, austere blue hue, helping depict a complicated, crime-filled world. Our lead is officer Max Lewinsky (James McAvoy), a man who is haunted by a mistake made in his past. Nearly catching notorious criminal Jacob Sternwood (Mark Strong), instead, he finds himself with a bullet in his leg and then reprimanded for disobeying orders. Now a shell of his former self, he has lost the fire that once drove him, trudging through life in a haze of pain and apathy. Paired with a partner, Sarah Hawks (Andrea Riseborough), who has the drive that he once had, she is constantly fighting his indifference.