Disclaimer: I’ve written a short review-type summary of my thoughts for each film. Hope you enjoy and don’t take what I say at face value, because to be honest I don’t know too much what I’m talking about. Also these summaries are likely to spoiler-heavy so if you haven’t seen the film, watch it first before reading.
The Message
The Message is the only film on this list that was a real struggle to get through, and not just because the runtime pushes the three hour mark. Actually, this length is somewhat justified considering the film is tackling the birth of Islam and the struggles the early Muslims went through in establishing their newly founded religion in the face of mass paganism in the region. The extent of the film’s ambition is somewhat admirable, especially considering all the eggshells it would’ve encountered in depicting extended family members of Muhammad, and there are a few exciting battle scenes that manage to convey a real sense of something being on the line.
The biggest problem for me is the general lack of clarity regarding where authority lies in Mecca as the film develops – the scene where the paganists are forced to consult an-almost elder statesman type throws everything we had seen up to this point into doubt and convolutes the early stages of the narrative. And while the film deserves some leeway in regards to its three hour runtime, there are still large sections of the film that drag substantially, and generally the film lacks what I would describe as an audience-holding flow. Other issues include the unremittingly biased depiction of the pagans as hyperbolically villainous, humanity-disregarding troglodytes and the decision to pretty much solely employ classically trained actors, whom all mould into one another as the film progresses, which undoubtedly dampens the emotional impact the story aims to have.
The Usual Suspects
The Usual Suspects is generally known as the film with that ending and for me that best describes the major flaw of this film. It appears to be more interested in creating a scene-stealing “Oh f**k me” moment than assembling a fully coherent 100/120 minute narrative that holds up under scrutiny, because largely it doesn’t. You come out of the film struggling to piece together the stomach churning twists and turns of the story, and once you do, it’s as if you’ve been swindled by a street magician.
Loosely, the story begins with five criminals who meet coincidentally in a police cell and decide to carry out an ambitious heist for $3 million worth of emeralds. Aside from the deceptive nature of the narrative, there are a lot of incredulities as well; notably how the gang of five have no synonymously-intertwining motivation thus making it unlikely they would’ve been able/willing to initiate proceedings on their own dime. Like the audience, they are little more than vessels for manipulation.
There are a couple of redeeming features – Kevin Spacey for his wounded and childishly arrogant portrayal of Verbal Kint and a screenplay by Christopher McQuarrie that is comedically sharp and acerbic in places.
American History X
American History X is a really frustrating film, because it seems like a massive missed opportunity. It involves two brothers; Derek and Danny, the former of whom becomes a white supremacist after his firefighter father is killed while on detail in a black neighbourhood. After a stint in prison, Derek’s racist views are reformed and he must prevent his younger brother from fully going down the same path he had previously sent him towards.
For me, the film fails in addressing the two major questions that it unavoidably raises; how did Derek obtain his racist viewpoints in the first place, and what happened for him to have U-turned so drastically on said viewpoints. The film makes a weak attempt regarding the first one with a scene near the end showing Derek’s dad prejudiced attitude against positive discrimination but this more than leaves us wanting. It tries to answer the second with a 30 minute sequence of Derek’s time in prison; how he gradually befriends a black inmate while working in the laundry room, and unrelatedly his traumatic experience of being sexually assaulted by fellow white skinheads. This section is by far and away the most interesting aspect of the film but to fully achieve its objectives, it needs to be much longer; displaying the shifts and flows of perspective that he goes through before coming out a seemingly fully changed man, as opposed to the film’s unnecessary focus on Derek at the height of his white power tenure.
Snatch
If you go into it with your brain largely disengaged, then Snatch can be quite a fun time. Essentially, it’s a rugged caper with two intertwining plot lines involving a boxing promotor, a vicious gangster and an Irish gypsy. The banter between Jason Statham and Stephan Graham is consistently entertaining, Alan Ford gives a menacing performance as the gangster, and Ritchie’s snappy, quick-cut camerawork lends itself to this genre, notably a great scene in a pub involving Vinnie Jones and a knock-off shotgun.
However, peel this away, and there is a pretty tangible lack of depth or substance to pretty much anything that occurs here. Even with the death of Mickey’s mum, there is no emotional impact; the film just moves on to the next crazy setpiece without giving you adequate time to digest what’s happened. Ritchie’s direction is a double-edged sword as well, because despite its entertaining elements, the majority of the action is so heavily stylised that it ends up feeling inconsequential.
Also, there is Brad Pitt’s performance. Apparently, there are some people out there who enjoy it, but from my perspective, it doesn’t even try to escape the realm of caricature and after a while you kind of give up trying to understand whatever gibberish he’s spouting.
Inglorious Basterds
Inglorious Basterds is a strange one, because it starts really promisingly. The opening 10/15 minute interrogation scene is amazingly put together, with Christoph Waltz setting the tone for a devilishly elegant performance as the Jew-hunting SS officer Landa, and the opening Basterds section is quite funny and entertaining despite its indulgence.
But in this vengeance fairytale about a French-Jewish cinema projectionist who plots to avenge her family’s murder at the hands of Waltz’s SS officer, you come out of it feeling like you’ve just watched a series of individually crafted setpieces; some very well done (the basement scene), others not so (the previous scene in the English army’s HQ, which feels like a sketch leftover from SNL). In terms of the story, Tarantino’s penchant for rewriting history is all well and good but it has to be somewhat conceivable; all the major figures of the Nazi party would never all convene together for a trivial film screening, especially outside of Germany. He also very irritatingly undoes a lot of Landa’s character billing by having him propose stupidly outlandish terms as part of his betrayal deal: something contrary to the cold and jovially calculated figure we had seen up to this point
Gladiator
Gladiator is one of those typical Oscar-bait films is that is actually a lot less good than it appears to be. It also follows that mantra in how its lead is a lot more underwhelming than the rest of the supporting cast. Russell Crowe is average at best, and his slightly one-note performance is clinically exposed whenever he acts opposite Joaquin Phoenix, who manages to be both petulant and skin-crawling as the unfavoured son Commodus.
The film does a pretty decent job with the gladiatorial action scenes in capturing the grittiness of the mood and period but the most interesting aspect by far is the incestuous, psychological, head-to-head between Commodus and his sister Lucilla (another great supporting performance by Connie Nielsen), which it criminally underplays. Again, the major issue lies with the narrative; the film takes a long time to get going (unpopular opinion: Battle of Germania scene is actually pretty turgid) and simply gets stuck in the period between Maximus being arrested and participating in his first gladiatorial fight – showing how the 155 minute runtime can be trimmed significantly. The script is also clunky on occasion – not massively surprising considering director Ridley Scott started filming with only 21 pages of it completed.
Once Upon a Time in the West
Already, this is definitely my most controversial opinion, as this film is generally considered a masterpiece by all who review it. The best way I can describe watching it is like walking alongside a horse as opposed to riding it: you can see the aesthetic beauty and the physical prowess without actually feeling anything close to being caught up in the true experience.
Once Upon a Time in the West is renowned for its very slow and deliberating pacing, and this poses no issue for me whatsoever – I was actually strangely captivated by the opening 5/10 minutes and admired how the film tonally sets its stall out so early. But when you have a situation where the first 90 minutes are as equally confusing as it is slow – then you have a problem. The film plays its cards so close to its chest that you kind of feel detached from the immersive experience – and a combination of the beautiful simulated Western landscape and Ennio Morricone’s standardly haunting score means there is considerable potential to be immersed.
It also takes a strange approach to its characters in terms of the concealing of their motivations throughout, particularly Charles Bronson’s Harmonica. Leone struggles to hide the extent of his male gaze in regards to Jill McBain, the widowed heroine who owns the land that for reasons not entirely made clear is being squabbled over for the duration of the film. Jason Robards does provide some underused comic relief as the easy-going gangster Cheyenne.
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