This review of the festival is obviously based on the bands I saw. Such is the nature of Glastonbury’s size and sprawling line-up, it’s impossible to see everything and there will be a lot I’ve missed.

Friday 25 June

The sun is shining, a whole host of great bands are primed and ready to go, life couldn’t be better. I kick off at the John Peel Stage to check out the highly rated Detroit Social Club. God knows why, they are awful. The Oasis/Kasabian schtick feels incredibly tired and lead singer David Burn’s best Tom Meighan impression falls way short. The only way they could be any more of a lad-rock knock-off is if they have a song called ‘Kiss the Sun’ or something. Oh, they do. Gash. Canadian twins Tegan and Sara’s indie-pop is pleasant and well-constructed but fails to get the relaxed (and pretty middle-aged) crowd going. Over on the Other Stage, it appears that Glastonbury is the only place where the Magic Numbers are still remembered. It’s music that can only really work at festivals and for the most part it does. Their smiley, genial demeanour wins the fairly decent crowd over and the first-album hits provide the first sing-alongs of the festival. The Park Stage is one area of Glastonbury that distinguishes it from the umpteen other copy-cat festivals throughout the country. A peaceful, otherworldly part of the site, it’s a lovely place of respite from the hustle and bustle of the more central areas.

Steve Mason’s beautifully melodic trip-hop fits perfectly with the feel of the stage and although the audience is a tad sparse, the former Beta Band frontman appears to appreciate the effort made by those in attendance. Single All Come Down leaves me in a state of relaxed contentment as I move on to the hugely contrasting Dance Village. The tent is surprisingly packed out for electro-funk duo Chromeo, and they don’t disappoint. People are looking around disbelievingly. Is this a joke? Are they a novelty band? It doesn’t matter. The songs are good, the crowd love it and Chromeo receive arguably the best audience response of the weekend. Now, if it’s sing-alongs you’re after, then Vampire Weekend deliver in spades. Whether it’s the weather or the band’s ridiculously catchy pop, the crowd mimic every word and guitar riff to secure the group’s status as a supreme festival act.

As noted on this very site in recent months, Mystery Jets have grown into a well-oiled machine, armed with an arsenal of pop gems. Performing at the Queen’s Head bar, the band goes down a treat. The group appears overwhelmed by the audience response and the whole thing turns into a bit of heart-warming love-in. As always, rumours abound over the identity of the evening’s special guests. Luckily, I amble over to the Park and manage to catch the majority of an acoustic Radiohead set. As the sun sets behind the stage, Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood conduct a mass sing-along of Karma Police and I get the feeling I’ve just witnessed a proper Glasto ‘moment’ ^TM.  Opting to give Gorillaz a miss for the guilty pleasure of Bootleg Beatles, I end Friday with the most famous tribute band in the world. It’s all great fun and Beatles fans, young and old, wander off into the night with a smile on their face. After a shaky start, Friday turns out to be a bit of a beezer.

Saturday 26 June

I’d like to say that I began my day with the John Peel Stage again to find some unknown gems, but in truth, it’s just about the only place you can find shade on the entire site. Sunburnt and suffering, I check out Sophie Hunger, a Swiss folk artist with an extremely distinctive voice. She leaves an understated mark before Cymbals Eat Guitars do a great impression of Pavement. Their sound leaves some of the audience scratching their heads but I enjoy it and find the band to be somewhat charming. Next up are the ridiculously underrated Field Music, bursting through a whistlestop tour of their albums, including material from the equally brilliant side projects the band have indulged in recently. Their inch-perfect pop appears to win over a large proportion of the ample crowd, despite a number of technical issues threatening to derail proceedings. Brothers Pete and David Brewis are clearly displeased with the sound techs but it’s testament to their performance that the crowd stick with them, even if the band do come across a bit precious.

Often compared to the similarly dark sounding Joy Division and Interpol, The National’s brooding indie appears at odds with the size of the Other Stage and the sunshine. Unfortunately, this suspicion proves correct as their intelligent melancholia drifts over the disinterested crowd. Another band you wouldn’t normally associate with big-stage festival performances are The Cribs, but their tuneful punk-pop sparkles and provokes an uncharacteristic (for Glastonbury) moshpit down at the front.

Back on the John Peel Stage, Wild Beasts‘ otherworldly sound generates a surprisingly raucous response, as the tent begins to fill up for the larger acts of the evening. Having headlined the Park Stage the evening before, it would be understandable if The XX went through the motions tonight in front of a sparse audience. However, the feeling of anticipation is palpable as the huge crowd spills out of the tent, and the band fail to disappoint. Moody and minimalist, the set is dripping with atmosphere and the appearance of Florence Welch brings the house down. Shame it’s her 60th ’surprise’ performance of the festival. In many ways her wailing histrionics are the absolute antithesis of what the XX represent. Ok, you’ve got a decent voice but there’s only so many times I can handle having You Got the Love shoved down my throat before I have a breakdown.  Go away. Please.

So. Midlake. The hippy-friendly band playing a headline set on the hippy-friendly Park Stage at the most hippy-friendly festival in the world. The stars are out and the hippies are primed, everything is set for an iconic Glastonbury performance. So why is it so boring? The band plod through a mid-paced set which seems designed to alienate while the majority of the crowd stand around wishing they had gone to see the ever reliable Muse. Ach well, you can’t win ‘em all.

Sunday 27 June

Opening Sunday’s proceedings are The Joy Formidable on the Other Stage. It’s early and the crowd is in a particularly lazy mood as it becomes apparent that there will be no let up from the scorching weather. Still, their spunky power pop makes a decent impact. Next up, our very own Frightened Rabbit come across extremely well; their amiable banter and passionate, undeniably Scottish indie leaving a good impression. It’s all a bit too self conscious and earnest for me but they seem like a good, honest band.

I have a confession to make. Instead of watching the plethora of wonderful bands on show on Sunday afternoon, I opt to join tens of thousands of expectant England fans in a huge field, staring at a giant TV screen. England are thrashed by Germany and the crowd appears momentarily upset before renewing acquaintances with the temporary city of madness and mayhem down the hill.

Being the unashamed uber-fan that I am, I skip my way over to the Queen’s Head to see Field Music for the second time of the weekend. It’s a curious choice to have such a little-known band play twice at the festival and this is demonstrated by the absolutely shocking attendance. Having said that, the people there appear to be staunch fans of the band and Field Music definitely seem more at ease with the more intimate environs. Manchester’s I am Kloot have been doing the rounds now for a number of years and only now appear to be gaining the credit their workmanlike but thoroughly decent indie deserves, having received a Mercury Prize nod for fifth album Sky at Night. There is a triumphant feel to their set and judging by the audience response to old gems Twist and Morning Rain, I am Kloot are a bit of a sleeping giant and have the potential to do ‘an Elbow’.

It’s been a long time since The Strokes changed the face of music but going by the riotous reaction to Julian Casablancas‘ appearance on the John Peel Stage, there remains a loyal audience awaiting any new material. Albeit, Casablancas generously alternates between his solo material and that of his former band, but there can be no denying that the New Yorker is on good form and appears unusually chatty these days. 11th Dimension is great fun and Hard to Explain makes you question where the last 9 years have gone.

With the sun setting on another Glastonbury, it is left to Rodrigo y Gabrielas to softly bring proceedings to a close. Headlining the West Holts Stage, the Mexican acoustic duo wow with their virtuouso classical guitar playing.

So that’s it. A weird, wonderful weekend that was far more than just the music described here and no doubt a wildly different experience to that of everyone else present at Glastonbury 2010. This in itself defines the festival. Completely and utterly unique.

Inception is a hugely ambitious film. It’s also very much an auteur’s film, a film by Chris Nolan – it’s his vision from start to finish. Here, he has writtten, produced and directed a film that is, in his words, a “sci-fi actioner set within the architecture of the mind”. With a budget of $200 million. It has been a long time since Hollywood entrusted an auteur with that kind of cash, perhaps harking back to the era of learnt lessons that ended with Michael Cimino’s Heaven’s Gate. There is no such self-indulgence here however, but what we do have is a tightly-wound, cerebral, summer action blockbuster.

DiCaprio plays Dom Cobb, an extractor, who’s job it is to get inside the subconscious of his targets and extract ideas from them, but he has been extricated from his home in the U.S and is unable to return to his children. A shadowy indsutrialist offers him the chance to overturn his extradition as the fee for one last job – inception. This is the art of planting an idea into a target’s head rather than stealing one. Many in the business claim it is impossible, yet Cobb knows that it can be done. He accepts the deal and puts together a team to carry out the mission. The task requires to go extremely deep into the target’s subconscious, three dreams within dreams. The deeper they go, the more unstable the realities become.

The film begins in a bewildering fashion, quick cuts between what you later learn are different realities that completely boggle your mind. However, you just have to accept you are not going to understand some of what’s going on and cling to the bits you do. After that though, the film does slow down for a little section, and the complexity of the plot creates some necessities that are really the film’s only flaws. There is a necessity to establish motivations for the actions of a few characters and there is a necessity for Ariadne (Ellen Page) to have almost all her dialogue be exposition. However, the film moves with such an expert pace that you are never left long enough to question anything, you are too busy just keeping up with the action.

The idea of the shared dream that is central to this film is clearly about filmmaking itself, with Nolan the architect and we the dreamers. Certain elements of the set design in the early part of the film actually recall an empty soundstage, or a props workshop. And just like in filmmaking, the boss can’t go it alone, he needs to build a team of experts around him, whom he must rely on to reach the goal. In both cases, the teams assembled are the best in the business. DiCaprio’s Cobb has access to the very best extractors, architects and forgers in the business, and Nolan has assembled one of the greatest ensemble casts possible today while also attracting others at the very top of their game, with a soundtrack by Hans Zimmer, and cinematography by Wally Pfister.

The conceits that are littered throughout the plot in order to drive it forward are almost perfect in every case, each raising a little smile on your face as you finally get a hint of where the film will turn next. Many of these knots that are unravelled through the running time are excuses to create some of the wildest and most original visual effects ever seen on a cinema screen. The dream realities have no hard and fast rules of physics and can be manipulated by the architect at will. This means cities fold on top of themselves, freight trains run straight through city roads and a simple fistfight in a corridor becomes a breathtaking, inexplicable thrill ride.

Despite the complexity of the plot, the ambition of the effects and the pace of the cutting, the film never feels like its overstretching, or that anything hasn’t been thought through to it’s conclusion. Like any good sci-fi, it strictly obeys its own rules, even if you as a viewer don’t know what they are sometimes. The performances are remarkable too, Leo in particular having so much to balance on his expressions that it would confuse the audience in the hands of lesser actors. The fact that he had a character with such similar motivations and problems with reality in Shutter Island and has managed to distinctly differentiate between the two men is testament to his skill as an actor. The supporting cast are equally incredible, Marion Cotillard providing the menace but also the emotional heart of the film with Mal, the relationship between Tom Hardy’s Eames and Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s Arthur providing a little levity here and there, Ellen Page’s Ariadne doing remarkably well under the weight of all the exposition, not to mention Cillian Murphy, Tom Berenger and Michael Caine.

Inception is one of the most brain-teasing films to ever have been made with this kind of budget and scale of production. It is a return to the intelligent sci-fi of the seventies, before it was infantilised by the likes of Star Wars, but rather than the cold, studied detachment of that previous era, it is fascinated by the relationships between people and with themselves. The result is a film that can not only sit in the pantheon of the greatest sci-fi movies, but the greatest movies at all. As Leonardo DiCaprio put it in a recent interview, this is Nolan’s 8 1/2. A masterpiece.

10/10

Skeletons is a British feature expanded from a short by director Nick Whitfield which follows the journey of two men who work for a company whose business is to literally find the skeletons in people’s closets. They enter into the domestic homes of families, armed with their seemingly pre-war gear, full of dials and theremin-wails, to find out people’s deepest, darkest secrets, bringing them to the client with the bored professionalism of a bank clerk. However, there is a danger inherent in the profession – the ability to visit your own past, over and over again – a practice called glowchasing. When the pair get given a crucial objective that could see them given a promotion, they find they have bitten off more than they can chew and one of them becomes so enamoured with glowchasing, that it becomes a problem.

The premise is admittedly mad, and the story that unfolds around it is no less so. But the style and panache imbued in this film is quite incredible given its meagre budget. Pre-festival murmurs of the “British Eternal Sunshine” are almost merited, although this is a more lighthearted affair with more laughs and throwaway visual gags.  However, this does not detract from the film’s themes or ideas, of memory, loss and desire, which are delivered with heartfelt sincerity, and without ever feeling sentimental or schlocky.

The leads in the film are fantastic, Andrew Buckley and Ed Gaughan playing out a buddy comedy which the cast and crew of the film admit is a “bit Lethal Weapon”. One is an outsider type, who lives alone in an amputated ship’s hull in a field (told you it was mad) and the other is a more family-minded straight guy. The two play off each other to perfection, and you can tell that the script was a collaborative affair, which was wokshopped to death. Supporting roles are filled to a similar quality, Jason Isaacs playing the company boss, the Colonel, who never removes his hat, has an unexplained scar across his neck and speaks with an almost sub-audible Yorkshire growl.

The sense of another reality is conjured with deft skill in this film, the locations and clothes giving a placeless, timeless feel, yet somehow familiar, as if this is a universe only slightly altered from our own. The music also has hints of an Eastern European flavour, further throwing off your sense of direction within the film. Equally, some of the cinematographic shifts as the protagonists come in and out of the secrets of their clients are stunning.

The end result is a uniquely British, English film which is mad, comic, heartfelt, thought-provoking and visually entertaining all at the same time. Miss it at your peril, otherwise the psychic detritus might turn you Bulgarian (you’ll see what I mean if you watch it, please do!).

Stephen Says:

I didn’t know what to expect from this comedy other than what I had read in the synopsis. The premise is basically Knocked Up with some added testicular amputation. Patrick Wilson’s titular Barry is a serial perv who lacks any direction in his life. After his womanising ways get him into an unfortunate accident/assault with a trumpet, he has to have his testes amputated. On his first day back at work, he receives a letter informing him he has an unborn child with a woman he can’t remember ever even meeting.

What plays out from their is a fairly conventional screwball comedy, the two lead characters playing their opposing traits well off each other. However, despite the conventional plot structure and characterisation, there is a surrealism to the comedy and an indie sensibility to the direction that keeps this from being just another romcom. Also impressive is the way the laughs keep coming all the way until the final act, a feat which the Apatow comedies are often unable to manage, becoming schlocky and sentimental.

Patrick Wilson also emerges as a talented physical comic actor, using his body to elicit most of the laughs while his face delivers just enough to make you continue caring about his altogether reprehensible character. With some good supporting turns from Chloe Sevigny, Billy Dee Williams, Malcolm McDowell and Cybill Shepherd, this film should prove popular on release with those looking for a comedy with a little more depth than Seth Rogen can handle.

Pat says:

Patrick Wilson has played some interesting, ballsy roles in recent years and he continues that run in Barry Munday. From paedophilia in Hard Candy to adultery in Little Children (we’ll discount the superhero romp in Watchmen), Wilson has combed the landscape of sexual politics. With Barry’s uncontrollable sex drive and the subsequent removal of his testicles, Wilson continues the pattern in this superior comedy and displays a surprising knack for comic acting. The brilliance of the performance is borne out of the ability to squeeze laughs out of every mannerism and physical move of Munday, particularly after the aforementioned operation. With the notable comic connection between Wilson and the impregnated female lead (Judy Greer) allied to surprising turns from Malcolm McDowell and Billy Dee Williams, the film maintains its momentum throughout. Each time the inevitable spectre of sentimentality threatens to derail the film in the final act, director Chris D’Arienzo throws a curveball like the absolutely hilarious genital defect support group meeting. A breath of fresh air in a comic landscape dominated by the Apatow stable,  Barry Munday takes a premise that could have easily gone awry and makes it work.

You can see Barry Munday at the Edinburgh International Film Festival on June 21st at 21:35, Cineworld and June 22nd at 21.45, Cineworld.

Monsters

Pat:

When In Search of a Midnight Kiss was screened at the Edinburgh Film Festival three years ago, I can attest that it had a profound effect on much of the audience there. I was amazed by the performance of the central couple, the use of location as character (LA) and the emotional resonance of a simple, low-budget script. Following that screening, Observer columnist Jason Solomons was so impressed that he supported the film and helped it get distribution in the UK. Visual effects man Gareth Edwards decided to nab the male lead Scoot McNairy and transpose many of the film’s themes and feel to a monster sci-fi set in Central America.

Andrew Kaulder (McNairy) needs to escort Samantha Wynden (Whitney Able) back to the US through the ‘infected zone’, an area inhabited by ‘creatures’ which can at best be described as giant octopi. As the couple struggle to get back over ‘the wall’, their relationship develops and the film usurps audience expectations by revealing itself as a love story. The film’s special effects, incredibly impressive given the probable budget, are all created after shooting and exist to supplement the wholly believable central relationship developing. An offscreen couple, McNairy and Able blatantly have chemistry together and this gives the film added authenticity, vital to the film’s on-the-hop style. Edwards cleverly aqueezes as much dramatic potential as he can from the unstable surroundings of Mexico and Guatemala at the time and manages to create a film that stands up to its Hollywood forebears. Monsters has the feel of a cult classic, and with a marketing campaign akin to say, District 9, it could achieve such status. Not only would such an outcome be a victory for Edwards, but also the criminally underrated film that inspired it.

R

Pat:

Thematically and stylistically similar to Un Prophete, R is a Danish prison drama notable for its gritty realism and fine performances. Like Audiard’s critically-acclaimed work, the plot follows an  imprisoned young man (Rune) who is forced to undertake a nasty act of violence before being taken in  by the powerful gang on the inside. Manipulated by the gang leaders, Rune follows orders meekly before discovering a way in which he can gain power and respect among his fellow prisoners. However, his elevated status has consequences and the claustrophobic racial tensions of the prison reach boiling point.

R is an effective prison drama, the violence realistically effective and the central storyline darkly exciting. However, the film suffers from the unfortunate, inevitable comparisons with Un Prophete, directors Tobias Lindholm and Nicholas Noer lacking the array of  tricks which Jacques Audiard employs to turn his prison epic into a masterpiece. Still, it’s a valiant effort and is a perfectly watchable addition to the genre.

Stephen says:

The only thing I have to add to Pat’s comments is about the soundtrack. The shocking, grim action on screen is matched perfectly by the music. Made up of big, reverby blocks of grinding sound, it is one of the most complementary soundtracks I’ve heard in a long time, perfectly reinforcing the action.

Pat says:

With 2006’s London to Brighton, Paul Andrew Williams demonstrated his ability to do rough, raw UK drama. He’s on similar ground with Cherry Tree Lane, a grim take on Britain’s culture of fear and scaremongering. As a middle-class couple sit down to a bitter and tense dinner, the 24 news channel reports on an endless stream of fear-inducing stories. A gang of youths burst into the house and, taking obvious cues from Michael Haneke’s Funny Games, the couple are tied up and subjected to beatings and torture. While Haneke’s emotionless captors have no apparent motive (a comment on the passive acceptance of onscreen violence and horror?), Williams’ are driven by a clear motivation of revenge. This crucial difference throws up interesting questions about the intentions of the director. Is the film torture porn? Is it a wish fulfilment anti-bourgeoisie fantasy? It’s a debate not dissimilar to the furore surrounding the recent release of Michael Winterbottom’s The Killer Inside Me and it’s sure to be a talking point come the film’s theatrical release. Regardless, the film is viscerally effective and with its minimal score and the use of off-screen sound effects is at times unbearably tense.

Stephen says:

I agree largely with Pat on this. It feels like a kind of cover version of Funny Games, recontextualising the basic premise in order to illustrate different themes and ideas. I’m just not entirely sure if those themes and ideas are consistent with each other. As Pat pointed out, the use of the 24-hour news channels made it initially seem like it was going to make some kind of point disparaging the fear-multiplying tactics used by the media, but the actual events almost validate those very same tactics. However, the performances all very good and believable, creating a genuine and all too believable sense of fear.

You can see Cherry Tree Lane at the Edinburgh International Film Festival on June 21st at 19:45, Cameo 1, and June 25th at 20:35, Cameo 1.

Superhero Me

Pat says:

Coming hard on the heels of Michael Vaughan’s Kick-Ass, Superhero Me is a charming and amiable documentary on what it would take to be a real-life superhero. As director Steve Sale attempts to become a superhero, the film breezes by and has several genuinely funny moments. However, it’s clear he felt the pressure to add some profundity and emotional heft to the tale and this becomes clearly apparent in the third act. The film runs out of steam and begins to feel cynically forced, but there is plenty of fun to be had in the first hour.

Stephen says:

This extreme low-budget documentary would probably be better served on TV. I can’t help but feel like if he had approached Channel 4 or BBC Three or something first, he could have had more of a budget, more support and more of an audience.

You can see Superhero Me at the Edinburgh International Film Festival on June 2oth at 22.15, Cameo 1, and June 21st at 22.00, Cameo 1.

Boy

Pat says:

Boy is an absolute joy from start to finish. Set in 1980s New Zealand, Taika Waititi’s comedy is drenched in comic nostalgia and lovingly mocks the period of its setting. Fans of Flight of the Conchords will find much to cherish here, as the director’s history on the show is apparent from the onset. However, it is the moving central relationship between a son and his father that really drives the film. Waititi himself plays the father, a hilarious buffoon who has questionable motivations for returning to the children he has not seen since his imprisonment. The son, known as Boy, looks up to his father and longs to emulate his laid-back, cool lifestyle. However, the father is incapable of being paternal and forces Boy to grow up quickly. The comedy is beautifully observed, the heavier moments display a lovely lightness of touch, while the characters and depiction of the setting feel autobiographically accurate.

Boy does not yet have a UK release date.

With the drug-addled hyperactivity of Trainspotting and the dark tenement flats of Shallow Grave the only notable representations of Edinburgh in recent years, how refreshing it is to see a film that captures perfectly what makes the capital the beautiful and unique city it is. And where better to have it screened than in the grand environs of the Festival Theatre. The dramatic nature of the venue, the film’s subject matter and the audible buzz of excitement give the opening night of the 64th Edinburgh Film Festival a significant sense of occasion; an evening to celebrate Edinburgh, cinema and the festival’s recent reawakening under artistic director Hannah McGill’s stewardship. Thankfully, the The Illusionist lives up to the grandeur and proves to be a minor masterpiece, its hand drawn artistry and stately pace an understated two-finger salute to the razzmatazz of 3D animation. Every shot is static, giving the viewer time to digest how much time and dedication has gone into each frame and minor detail. The story, a washed-up magician leaves Paris for Scotland and strikes up a relationship with a young girl, is charming and moving, while any resident of Edinburgh is guaranteed to feel a sense of warmth and pride at the evocation of the city in the 1950s. On a sour note, director Sylvain Chomet today gave a Q&A on the making of the film and lamented that the lack of support for film (animation in particular) from the Scottish Government caused him to close down his Edinburgh studio. If artists like Chomet, profoundly passionate about cinema and Scotland, decide to up sticks as a result of our political indifference towards the industry, then something is seriously wrong.

The Illusionist is on general release on August 20.

World’s Greatest Dad

Upon seeing World’s Greatest Dad, it suddenly becomes apparent how rarely Western cinema genuinely shocks. This film is outrageous, crude and disturbing. It’s also hilarious and an extremely well observed black comedy. There’s only so much that can be said without giving away some major plot points but let’s just say that you have never seen Robin Williams like this before and he deserves great credit for taking on a role which is genuinely challenging and a world away from the fluff he has become known for. The film loses its way somewhat as it struggles to match the ridiculous nature of its central concept but that shouldn’t take away from what is a funny, thought-provoking and darkly enjoyable couple of hours.

You can see World’s Greatest Dad at the Edinburgh International Film Festival on June 26 at 18:15, Cineworld 11.

The whole package works quite neatly, with the single player campaign, or TV season, broken up into episodes, each of which feature a number of different race types that you need to complete for points, in order to progress to the next episode. It is reminiscent of the systems popular in the older Burnouts and games like Stuntman Ignition. The advent of the open world racer kind of makes this look a little antiquated, but it still works nonetheless.

Some of the power plays are quite breathtaking, with huge skyscrapers collapsing and changing the actual track itself, and completely changing the race at times. The smaller power plays are equally useful, throwing dumpster trucks onto the track or exploding oil barrels right by your opponents.

This is one of the most fun and inventive racers of recent years, and is successful because while other, narrative based games and genres try to borrow from Hollywood in terms of dialogue, narrative and presentation, Split/Second takes the bombast and explosions from summer blockbusters and transplants them into a racing game format. The end product is a game that has the extreme high-speed thrills of Midnight Club, the constant sense of navigating deadly obstacles from Stuntman, and the huge production values and spectacle of a Michael Bay film.

8/10

9am – The People Vs George Lucas

My first day at the film festival kicked off with fan-culture documentary The People Vs George Lucas. I had extremely low expectations for this, I expected it to be ninety minutes of fanboy whingeing about Jar-Jar Binks. While there was an element of that, it was a surprisingly warm and balanced take on the Star Wars fan universe, and had a few interesting things to say about possession of art and the role of the creator-as-custodian of their own art. It also brought a focus to the fact that Star Wars has inspired more amateur (and professional) fiction writers, directors, phycisists, graphic artists, and a million other things than probably all of the higher education institutes in Scotland combined. Well worth a watch even if you are not into Star Wars.

11.45 – The Illusionist

2003’s Belleville Rendezvous took the international awards scene by storm – and rightly so. Sylvain Chomet’s inimitable skill as an animator and steadfast dedication to an “old school” way of doing things produces films of such charm and warmth that you wonder why anyone would ever dabble in such witchcraft as 3D.

His latest feature is an adaptation of an unmade Jacques Tati script, originally set in Paris and Czechoslovakia. However, having relocated to Edinburgh over five years ago, he could not resist bringing it to life in his mesmerising style of animation. It is the story of a struggling stage magician in fifties Paris, whose audiences are rapidly migrating to exciting rock and roll. Forced to cast his nest ever-wider to obtain paid work, he ends up in the islands of Scotland, where he enchants a young girl with his sleight of hand, and together they travel to the capital.

Chomet’s portrayal of Edinburgh is quite simply astonishing. The thrill of seeing an already beautiful city rendered in such fine, lovingly handcrafted detail does not dissipate throughout the whole running time. While Edinburgh natives have the combination of familiarity and well, being Scottish to dull the aesthetic effect of Edinburgh’s landscape, it has taken a French virtuoso draughtsman to give a proper evocation of Auld Reekie’s majestic, sweeping terrain.

What’s more fascinating about the film however, is that spellbinding visuals play in the background to the delicate, sweet, comic relationship between the magician and his adolescent charge. Largely dialogue-free, the communication between the two is limited to a drop of the shoulders here, a raised eyebrow there, and is all the more potent for it. By the end of the film, despite not understanding a full sentence either have said, there is a sense of real, palpable emotional attachment.

The Illusionist is one of those rare cinematic artefacts, one that conveys everything it has to say through elements of cinema that make it unique – mood, mise-en-scene, tone, the unquantifiable magic of cinema, in essence. Quite simply a gem of pure, uncut cinema. If you get an opportunity to see it, grab it with both hands.

13.45 Ollie Kepler’s Ever Expanding Purple World

This low-budget British drama by writer/producer/director Viv Fongenie focuses on how easily a personal tragedy or set of circumstances can send an otherwise perfectly sane person into the realms of “madness”.  The film follows the titular Ollie Kepler as a trained astrophysicist who makes his living as a web designer. After a quick setup of him, his friends, family and life, he suffers a tragedy that sends him down a spiralling path of mental ill-health.

The plot plays alongside allegorical voiceovers from Ollie about quantum physics and how it defies all logic and accepted common sense. The comparison actually works, and gives some credibility to Edward Hogg’s performance. This is the beginning of the film’s problems. The acting begins a little on the student-level and some of the dialogue sounds fairly unnatural. the lighting is also very inconsistent, and some shots are dark enough to make you squint.

However, these are fairly minor technicalities. For the resources at their disposal, this is an ambitious film, in terms of plot, scope, structure and performances. While it certainly has it’s problems, it hits more than it misses and Hogg’s performance develops into something quite dark and believable.

The film has a lot to say about issues of mental health and it’s effect on people and the people around them. However, it has enough difficulties that a wide release might not be forthcoming.

So do any of those arouse your interest? Or are you holding out for something else? Let us know below.

The Losers is a DC Vertigo comic that resurrected a premise and a name from an old, defunct DC comic of the same name. The new books updated the premise, the context and the characters for the adult-oriented Vertigo imprint. The film introduces us to a band of soldiers framed by a shady CIA-affiliated man named Max. Outlaws in exile, they plot their return to the US and the exposure of Max as the real villain of the piece. Zoe Saldana’s femme fatale, Aisha, emerges from nowhere to offer them the chance to do just that.

The film is very well cast, including performances from cult heroes like The Wire’s Idris Elba and Jeffrey Dean Morgan. Also, showing convincing comedic chops before he picks up Captain America’s shield is Chris Evans. The action plays out in a sequence of set-pieces, some of which are fairly impressive, all of which are great fun. Everything gallops along at a wicked pace, with brief respite here and there for a quick couple of jokes and a brief bit of exposition before we’re off again.

The plot is little more than a vague framework to hang these action sequences on, but it doesn’t really matter. Elba is great as the moody and antagonistic Roque, Evans is unexpectedly genuinely funny as comms expert Jensen and Dean Morgan holds the whole thing together as straight-man leader Clay.

While there is nothing here that will bother the pages of Cahiers du Cinema, and none of the dialogue is even particularly quotable, the film is an energetic romp which is enjoyable from the first frame to the last .

7/10

The show revolves around the mystery of a ‘global blackout’, in which everyone on the planet simultaneously loses consciousness and experiences a vision of life 6 months in the future. Mark Benford (Joseph Fiennes), an FBI agent and a former alcoholic, is tasked with investigating the cause of the event and utilises accounts of ‘flashforwards’ (including his own) to unravel the case. This (albeit far-fetched) idea was an instant hook; an intriguing proposition with an inherent timeline structure to build momentum with. The initial episodes threw up some huge existential questions. Will events play out as foreseen? Can you change your destiny? Why does Joseph Fiennes look constipated? With this, the show looked a winner. The dialogue was wooden and the acting ranged from bad to hilarious, but the basic premise was simultaneously interesting and silly enough to maintain interest.

However, such an ambitious idea was always at risk of falling flat on its face, and Flashforward did spectacularly. Instead of being an entertaining examination of time, fate and free will, the show descended into an abject lesson in how to lose an audience. As the season played out, it became apparent that the characters were universally moronic and unlikeable, the plot had no idea where it was going and Joseph Fiennes is actually just really shit. The motivation for watching switched from being an interest in what was going to happen, to tuning in to just to see how bad it actually was. The storyline made no sense, people behaved completely out of character to manipulate an increasingly complex narrative arc and the whole thing collapsed under the weight of bad writing, bad acting and bad planning. Don’t even get me started on Dominic Monaghan.

Despite their obvious flaws, shows such as Lost and 24 are shining examples of how to turn an interesting premise into a well-made, well-written drama with longevity. In their wake, there is a gaping void for a US blockbuster TV show to fill. Flashforward promised to be that show, but in the end failed miserably. Oh well, it was funny while it lasted. I’m sorry Joe, you’re no Jack Bauer.

4/10