Two films

At last, getting back into the swing of things. Normal service. Finally been to our new local cinema, which is a 12-screen Odeon, to catch up with Children Of Men, which only the house-move and aftermath have prevented us from seeing sooner. It was an afternoon showing, and there was only one other punter in there. Now I've seen it, I can see why. It's the most singularly depressing film I've seen since my Ingmar Bergman binge about four years ago! Set in Britain 2027, it's a brilliantly recognisable dystopia, with enough that's the same to make the stuff that's different seem all the more possible. The human race has become infertile. No baby has been born for 18 years. Order has collapsed. We have nothing to live for. "Britain soldiers on!" according to isolationist government propaganda. Borders have been closed and immigrants are being rounded up and shipped out (hey, it's a utopian vision of the future for Daily Mail readers!) We have our own Homeland Security! Bexhill-On-Sea is a refugee camp. You have to hand it to director Alfonso Cuaron, his production designers Jim Clay and Geoffrey Kirkland, and cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki: Children Of Men (God, I'm getting quite depressed just thinking about it) is a beautifully realised world. Clive Owen is perfectly cast as the government drone-turned-accidental hero, dropped, all crumpled and smoking, into the middle of it. Michael Caine gets the role of his life as a pot-smoking political cartoonist who lives in the woods. And among all the despair and violence and ennui, a nice touch is that people seem incredibly attached to their pets. Dogs and cats are held dear everywhere. Whether this was in PD James' novel or not, I don't know, but it's a rare touch of warmth in the middle of the misery. I was impressed by the film, and it's very British (there's a car chase, a nail-biting one, that involves a car that won't start rolling down the hill, desperately hoping to achieve a hill start; and when Owen throws himself behind a wall to protect himself during a gunfight, he lands on some refugees already hiding there and says sorry!), but I wouldn't advise you to go and see it unless you're in such a bright, optimistic mood you can take it. (If you haven't see the trailers, which give away the whole plot, you'll enjoy it more, which is why I have refrained from giving it away. Talking of which ...)


Hard Candy, which is due out on DVD in a couple of weeks, also appears to be a depressing, grim prospect. It's a low-budget, no-star, California-set thriller about internet grooming that begins with a letchy 32-year-old photographer meeting up with a precocious 14-year-old girl in a coffee shop after a flirtatious session in a chatroom. He grooms her further by appearing "normal", hitting the right cultural buttons by mentioning Goldfrapp, and buying her an Edward Hopper t-shirt, which she goes into the toilets to try on for him, while he waits outside. Yuck. It's suitably creepy, and full of dread, despite the bright, sunny setting. They go back to his apartment, where his glamour shots of suspiciously young girls adorn the walls. They drink vodka. And that is where I shall shut up. It's best not to know what happens next. The twist comes about 25 minutes in. From there, it's a whole other film. And a very good one. Directed by a first-timer who did some Prodigy and Stone Temple Pilots videos, it's stylish but economically-staged, with great use of colour. It's also unpredictable. It could make a stage play. Hats off to the two actors, Patrick Wilson and Ellen Page (who was, thank heavens, 18 when she shot the film), who keep your attention throughout. Warning: there is a long, gruesome bit in the middle, but sit through it, and you will be rewarded. You don't actually see very much, as with all the best horror. On balance, there's not quite enough material to fill the 100 minutes, but you've got to hand it to all involved, this is an original, thought-provoking piece of talky schlock.