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Winter's Tale: Modern Day Fantasy Novel Gets Lost in Translation
Working from the sprawling pages of Mark Helprin's highly-complex 1983 novel, Akiva Goldsman's first directorial effort, Winter's Tale, seems to have spread itself a little too thin, making this overly-sentimental and the highly-incomprehensible, modern-day-fantasy world, a little hard to get stuck into.
Set in the early 20th Century, the story follows Peter Lake (Farrell); a highly-skilled, New York burglar who has been working for evil crime lord, Pearly Soames (Crowe), for as long as he can remember. Growing tired of Soames, Peter decides that it's time to cut loose and with the assistance from a mysterious flying white horse that comes out of nowhere – whom Peter ingeniously names 'Horse' – he manages to escape from his now seething boss.
However, before he leaves the island of Manhattan for good, Peter decides to rob one more mansion. However, during the robbery, Peter is intercepted by the beautiful owner Beverly Penn (Findlay) who, instead of calling for help, offers her intruder a friendly cup of tea.
Peter is immediately smitten, but soon learns that Beverly is dying and only has a few months to live; unable to turn his back on her, Peter follows his heart and pursues the relationship. Meanwhile, Pearly Soames is becoming seemingly obsessed with killing Peter, and turns to the master of evil, in the form of the highly-comical interpretation of Lucifer (Smith), for assistance.
Managing to express just enough sincere emotion to make you believe, Farrell is rather pleasing in the role of Peter. Unfortunately, the chemistry shared with Findlay, best-known for her role in the popular TV series Downton Abbey, unfortunately comes across as superficial and extremely forced. Similarly, Crowe, equipped with a highly-distracting Irish accent and bizarre facial tics, is alarmingly inconceivable as the menacing villain.
Book adaptations are generally hit or miss, and the challenges of capturing the same magic, imagination and literary complexity are aplenty, often demanding the filmmakers to find a middle ground to please fans of the book and mainstream Hollywood audiences alike.
In the case of Goldsman's interpretation of Winter's Tale, the result is a clear miss. Though this is his first directorial role, Goldsman is no stranger to Hollywood; as a scriptwriter, he boasts writing credits on a host of films including Cinderella Man, I, Robot and A Beautiful Mind.
Unfortunately, this undertaking is rushed and at times nonsensical leaving the six-hundred-plus page novel terribly lost in translation.
Marking the fifth instalment in the Underworld franchise, Blood Wars rests in the hands of a first-time feature director, Anna Foerster who, although managing to create a few notable moments of action, fails to bring any ingenuity or freshness to its now exhausted vampires-versus-werewolves narrative.
The story begins with a brief recap of events from the last four films where we learn that everyone’s favourite vampire death dealer, Selena (once again fully embraced by the leather-clad, forever sulking Kate Beckinsale) has been betrayed and banished by her kind.
Still trying to cope with the pain of having given up her vampire-werewolf hybrid daughter Eve for everyone’s safety, Selena is surprised to be summoned back into the vampire community - now led by the scheming Semira (Pulver) - who wish to make use of her skills in order to train the new generation of fighters, while still escaping her own chasers and searching for her daughter.
Taking quite a bit of time to get going, Blood Wars – written by Cory Goodman – is filled with lots of politics and nonsensical dialogue between characters who seemingly have a hard time in conveying any emotion, thus, making it all that difficult for the viewer to get invested in what they have to say. Drenched in a seemingly cold, metallic-blue tint, Blood Wars – although certainly not heavy on the action front – does manage to offer a couple relatively exciting action set-pieces. However, considering that this is a vampires-verses-werewolves kind of a movie, there just isn’t enough of that that specific mythology to set it apart from any other action movies – no wooden stakes or silver bullets to see here folks, just plenty of swirling swords and guns that can’t hurt anyone.
Another problem here is that the mythology behind the franchise in general – something the keeps spinning around aimlessly with no real focus or ending in sight – is a little hard to take seriously.
All of the characters, including the PVC-wearing Kate Beckinsale, who thinks that scowling her way through the scenes will get her anywhere, are all without an ounce of charm or personality – which sadly, brings us to a conclusion that there is no fun to be had in this rather forgettable cinematic offering and generic continuation of a franchise which, perhaps, might be ready now to close its doors and call it a day.
What can you say about the seemingly unstoppable force that is Nicolas Cage that hasn’t been said before? A magnet for the most troubled, muddled and just generally exasperating films to hit cinemas in the last five years, his latest work in USS Indianapolis: Men of Courage does nothing to change his fortunes.
Despite being based on one a true story that has all the makings of a war epic, the Mario Van Peebles-directed USS Indianapolis bleeds all and any gravitas and emotion out of its incredibly dramatic source material.
The story goes as thus: the eponymous US Navy cruiser delivered the first parts of the atomic bomb that would go on to devastate Hiroshima, before being torpedoed by the Japanese navy, leaving some 300 of the 1000-plus crewmen dead and the rest stranded in shark-infested waters. Said sharks, along with dehydration and salt water poisoning, leave just over 300 survivors to be rescued.
At the centre of the ensuing hubbub is Cage’s Captain McVay, who many, very unreasonably, blame for the death of the 700 or so victims – so you see, it’s a very complex story, but one that very quickly descend into and exercise on how not to make a war film.
The occasional laughable CGI aside, Cage is oddly sedate, bordering on placid, in his role – yes, the central character is possibly the flattest element of the film, while seasoned actors, Tom Sizemore and Thomas Jane, are given little to chew on in their respective roles.
While starting exactly as one would expect a war film to, the wreckage part of the film turns into cheap disaster movie, before turning into a courtroom drama in the final act. It’s a muddle of a film that fails to really drum to the beat of McVay’s potentially brilliant arc as a firm commander that eventually buckles under the unjust pressure he receives back at home.
Bad CGI, a mammoth two hour-plus running time and Nic Cage can be forgiven, but what’s at the heart of this film’s mess is the script. Jumping from event to event, plotline to plotline, at a whim, with Cage’s soft murmured speech used to pave over the transitions, USS Indianapolis’s pacing is that of a film hurrying to stuff as many ideas and threads as possible – expect that’s not the case. Van Peebles tries so hard to build the layers of an epic, when, actually, all he needed to do was tell this simple but stirring story as it is.