Solomon Kane

Solomon Kane is (at the start of the movie) a grade A murdering bastard. He's a
privateer captain whose purpose in life appears to be the pillaging and burning
of foreigners. During such a pillage and burn session, he comes across the
castle of a sorcerer where he discovers that his soul is forfeit, which seems
to come as something of a surprise to him, which is a bit rich given the amount
of wanton murder he commits in the run up to this revelation.

I should say at this point, that this whole business takes place in the 17th
century. I especially need to point this out since I'm going to be saying
"Sword" "Castle" and "Sorcerer" quite a bit. This is because Solomon Kane is a
character created by Robert E. Howard. If Robert E. Howard had written Sense
and Sensibility, it'd have had swords, sorcerers and castles in it.*

Subsequent to this, SK realises he's fucked, and returns to England, scarifys
his body with religious symbols, hides in a monastery and forswears violence.
He hopes this way to avoid damnation. Amateur theologists in the audience can
be heard to say "I don't think that's how it works." They'll be saying this
some more before the end.

He is cast out of the monastery, and told he has to return home. On the way he
hooks up with some pilgrims who are heading west, presumably to Bristol, and
thence the new world. Between them and Bristol is the savage land of, erm,
Somerset, which is where Kane is from, and whose father's castle(!) has been
taken over by and evil sorcerer(!) who is enslaving the countryside. He does
this by capturing them and either physically enslaving them if they do not
resemble Phil Mitchell, or corrupting them, mind controlling them, and
inducting them into his army if they do.

Kane's party is attacked, mostly killed, and the young daughter captured. In
his dying breath, the girl's father (Pete Pothelswaite! Yay!) tells Kane that
if he rescues the girl, his soul will be redeemed ("I don't think that's how it
works!")

So Kane renounces renouncing violence, picks up a couple of swords(!) and goes
off to the castle(!) to defeat the sorcerer(!) and his masked sword(!)sman
henchman. Violence, of course, ensues.

All of this is done by James Purefoy as Solomon Kane, in a Britain composed
entirely of mud and blasted woodlands, where if it's not raining, it's snowing.
Which actually makes it one of the most accurate portrayals of England seen on
film. Demons notwithstanding.

As you can tell, I thought the whole thing was utter nonsense, and highly
enjoyable. I hope it does well, and the sequel appears. If you have a mental
age of over 14, you may not agree, but hey. Takes all sorts.

* - And would thus have been awesome.

Youth In Revolt

In some cases, the old stories are the best. In this case, for instance, boy
meets girl, falls in love, and must overcome seemingly insurmountable odds to
be with her.

In this case, what he needs to do is get kicked out of the house my his mum, so
he can go and live with his dad, who lives close to the object of his
affections. Things get out of hand as the lad develops a Tyler Durden-esque
alter ego, and whenever one obstacle is overcome, a new one takes its place,
as things spiral out of control into mayhem and chaos.

It's not a deep movie by any means, but it delivers what it promises to be,
which is a indie-film-flavour farce with heaps of misadventure. Michael Sera is
good as the would-be-bad-boy nerd on a mission, Portia Doubleday is fun as the
would-be sophisticate girlfriend who he's utterly captivated by, but who adult
viewers will see through and see as just as nerdy on the inside as him, which
lends her a lot of genuine charm. Good support from the likes of Steve Buscemi,
Ray Liotta and Zach Galifianakis, who give the young characters enough room to
work.

It's a well written, well made film that's completely absurd, in a good way.

A Prophet

Serious face now.

Back in the world of morose French cinema, we have A Prophet. The tale of a
young lad sent to prison for an unspecified violent crime, who is inexorably
drawn into a life of organised crime. We see him progress from victim to stooge
to lackey to player to kingpin over the course of a six year sentence.

The intent of the film is to show us, I think, the potentially criminalising
effect of incarceration, as we see someone progress from being a redeemable
thug to a genuine criminal.

It's not a pretty film to watch, being painted in a palette of concrete greys
punctuated only by blood and the pretty appalling state of French leisurewear.
It's well written in that every character is ambiguous to a greater or lesser
extent, and the performances are pretty excellent.

It's had a lot of praise and even a little oscar buzz, but I don't know about
that. It's confused and obscure at times, as French cinema often can be, and
sometimes I think it crosses the line between not doing all your thinking for
you, and being deliberately obtuse. I also feel that the second half of the
film doesn't really live up to the first.

Still, overall, I'd highly recommend it if you're willing to be patient.

Sherlock Holmes

Here's how you write this film. Get someone who's read the books really really
drunk. Then get a writer who has somehow lived his life without ever even
hearing of Sherlock Holmes really really drunk. Then get the reader to explain
the books to the writer. Then sober the writer up, and get him to write a
screenplay out of what he remembers.

The result? A knockabout action comedy, featuring characters that are almost,
but not entirely, unlike those created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

And I'm fine with that. The whole thing's a lot more fun than Sherlock Holmes
usually is, at least. Where it does fall down, I'm afraid, is in being
basically not that interesting plot-wise. Robert Downey Jr and Jude Law arsing
about the place beating people up like a pair of drunk Victorian ninjas are
great. However, Mark Strong as the sinister Lord Blackwood, the villain of the
piece is a bit too understated. And so he's lurking about in the shadows doing
something or other, and you really can't be bothered to pay attention to it.
You really needed someone to steal the show, the way Tim Curry would. Mark
Strong, much as I like him, is far too restrained for this film.

Anyway, the whole thing rattles on to a suitably sinister and silly conclusion,
and has entertained you sufficiently by the end. A sequel is heavily suggested,
and I for one would be happy to see it happen.