Author Archives: Herbie Hilsdon

It was just over two years ago that I posted about the first Harry Potter film. Whoops. Lots has happened since then in the franchise – the critical and financial failure of the Fantastic Beasts films, leading to big question marks over their future and the announcement of a television remake of the books. There’s also been the open world video game, which had a lot of hype behind it but I haven’t really heard anything since. Maybe that’s on me. Anyway, we’re here to talk about the next film in the franchise, so let’s get to it.

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets was released in 2002, following the hugely and globally successful first film, with Christopher Columbus still in the director’s chair. Visually, thematically, stylistically, it’s all very much a direct follow up to The Philosopher’s Stone. This is a good thing, right? Wrong. It’s really hard to talk about this film in its own right, because everything other than the plot is identical to the first one, and even the plot follows the same broad strokes – what’s going on, and what does it have to do with Voldemort? Honestly, the first two films in the series just feel like an extended two-part television episode. In a way, it’s why I appreciate the next three films in the series beyond their inherent quality level, because each of them brings in a new director with their own ideas and art direction.

The practical effects are as strong as ever, especially for the giant spider, Aragog.

Isn’t he wonderful? I don’t even like spiders. The mandrakes are great too, it’s so much nicer when you can tell that the actors can physically see and feel what they’re reacting too, especially child actors. Look at how much better the basilisk looks when it’s a real, physical thing, as opposed to CGI. They’re different angles, annoyingly, but you get the picture (haha).

Watching the scene again, it just looks like Harry is slashing at air. I know that there was still a long way to go with visual effects, but why use a giant, moving model of a basilisk only some of the time? I can understand for the wide shots, but in all the close-ups with Harry using the sword, why don’t all of them feature the animatronic? Its mouth moves and everything! Don’t get me wrong, the visual effects are much stronger than the first film, but this particular scene just feels so inconsistent.

The casting is continuously strong, bringing in some of the most talented names that the British Isles have to offer, on top of an already loaded cast. Two of my very favourites are Kenneth Branagh as Gilderoy Lockhart and Christian Coulson as Voldemort, both for their extravagant and overblown portrayals of their characters. Lockhart looks very little like he was described in the book, but Branagh captures his delusional arrogance so well, the veiled cunning behind the gormless and vapid expressions. Speaking of arrogance, I’m still disappointed that this was Coulson’s only appearance in the franchise. If The Half-Blood Prince had any kind of spine at all, he would have been brought back for the flashback scenes of Tom Riddle as a young man, culminating in his final visit to Hogwarts before Tom Riddle officially disappeared and Voldemort was born. He was hammy and over the top in the very best way, chewing his words before spitting them out at Harry in that climactic scene in the chamber itself (spoilers).

As many times as I’ve seen this film, it’s quite telling that I’m finding it hard to really say anything of note. It’s all fine, but it’s never really anything more than that. It lacks ambition, which is frequently the fault of the studio’s handling of the franchise. The books are hardly great works of literature, and other than the core concept of ‘wizard school’, they never really go in a particularly interesting or surprising direction. The core concept of ‘something mysterious is going on that will not be solved until two weeks before the end of the school year in a climactic stand-off’ is essentially the plot of every single book. Of course, there’s a lot of interesting stuff going on beneath the surface and in side-plots, but very few of these were translated to the films. Maybe the series will do a better job of this, with the key advantage of having more time, but we’ll see.

One thing that I do enjoy, that we so rarely see in a film about about magic and magicians, is everyday magic just happening. The introduction of the Weasley’s house is Harry’s first introduction to magical life outside of Hogwarts, and they do a great job of capturing his wonder. Of course, they have to spell it out with his cheesy little “I love magic” line, but Daniel Radcliffe’s earnestness really helps sell the line.

My main issue with this film is that there’s nothing more here, nothing particularly interesting that makes it stand out. The plot ambles along with no real interesting twists or turns along the way (maybe that’s because I’ve seen it so much though). It’s old and dusty, the charm of the original already wearing pretty thin. Thank goodness for the visual shake-up in the next film, not only does the style change but so do some of the sets, expanding the castle and the grounds to feel more sprawling and mysterious. It’s still very watchable, as are all of the films in this series, I’m just glad they started to take it in a different direction after this.

When looking up the book that Oppenheimer was based on (American Prometheus, by Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin), there is a review from Thomas Powers which says ‘it is Oppenheimer the man, not general ideas about the nuclear age, that dominates these pages’. I have seen some pockets of criticism online that comment on Nolan’s lack of coverage of the impact of the nuclear bombings on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, of the impact on Japan and the world even, but that is not what this film is about. It covers the issues of the morality of using such weapons in great depth, how could it not? Ultimately this film, as it is so aptly titled, covers the career of J. Robert Oppenheimer. From his beginnings as a student of physics to the so-called end of his career after his security clearance is revoked and his reputation tarnished, Oppenheimer is at the front and centre of this story. I also happen to think that this is one of Nolan’s best films, his most focussed and certainly his most striking. As is the case with many of his films, the whole narrative is building up to the ending, a crescendo that will leave the viewer thinking for many days afterwards.

The film, as much as it is about Oppenheimer, is about morality. The debate about the usage of atomic weapons in Japan still goes on today, and throughout the film we see a lot of different angles and opinions shown by a lot of different parties. From Oppenheimer himself, from government officials, from members of the military, to a variety of scientists at Los Alamos, we the viewer are invited to take part in this debate. We see many of the arguments that have raged throughout history. The bomb may kill more instantly, but will save lives if the USA were to attempt a land invasion. The Japanese never would have surrendered otherwise. If they don’t develop it and use it as a deterrent, the Russians or the Germans will get there first. Would the Japanese have surrendered without a complete and devastating military defeat from the USA? We’ll never know.

In fact, this brings me to a Japanese film I watched that was set during the second World War. In This Corner of the World follows a woman who attempts to help her family survive and live as normally as they can throughout the war, in spite of air raids and the deaths of friends and loved ones. After the atomic bombs are dropped, when she learns of Japan’s surrender, she breaks down. She asks how they could have surrendered, when she is still alive to fight, when her family could still fight. She cannot reconcile the deaths, the destruction, the misery that has been caused all for them to surrender. It’s interesting that from this perspective, the end of the war is a terrible thing, that losing has caused the fight to be in vain. Indeed, this is one of the perspectives that was used to justify the nuclear weapons – that Japan would never give up otherwise. Was that the reality? I’m not a historian, but how can the instant deaths of tens of thousands, and the gradual and painful death of many more, be justified?

However, that does not mean that we are pointed in one, clear direction: the fallout from the usage of the weapons was devastating. Oppenheimer is haunted by images of the bomb after its usage in war. His development is used against him just a few years after its usage by the same government that used the device. A podcast that I was listening to on the topic suggested that the bomb, once it was completed, had to be used partially for political reasons. If the public learned that the USA had a bomb that could have ended the war, but their sons or friends or neighbours had died during a land invasion of Japan, well they couldn’t have that could they? Every vote counts after all.

Maybe that’s simplifying things too much, nine years is a long time in politics and especially in technological advancements, but to be tarred and feathered for doing what he was ordered to do is surprising. Of course, his vague links to Communists is presented as the true reason for the enquiry, which is then later shown to be revenge from Lewis Strauss for allegedly publicly humiliating him. I think simplifying things too much would be to claim that there was only one motive, only one moving part, in the process of discrediting Oppenheimer.

Indeed, the most striking scene in the film, perhaps the most striking scene that Nolan has ever put to screen, is when Oppenheimer gives a brief speech after learning of the successful nuclear detonation over Hiroshima. Cillian Murphy plays this scene stunningly, as he does throughout the whole film, that goes without saying. We see his facial expression shift and change throughout, from trying to be the crowd-pleaser that he so often was throughout his career, whilst battling with the implication that he had done it. A weapon whose project he had led and developed had been used, killing tens of thousands of people instantly. He sees the blinding light, hears the screams, feels the burnt bodies of innocents on the floor. All throughout the film we see the way that he attempts to justify to himself the development of such a weapon, primarily that if they didn’t do it, the enemy would do it first and use it against them. Indeed, the two other sections of the film regarding the two different hearings, investigate his shifting position throughout the years. The use of his position to be an advocate of peace, the UN, of not developing even more destructive nuclear weapons, all of this is used against him. How can one justify the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people? We, as an audience, are asked just that ourselves. I believe it is impossible to find an answer.

I’ll bring in my one major criticism now, because in the grand scheme of things it’s really not that big of a deal. It’s an issue I have with just about all of Nolan’s filmography; the dialogue. I know what you’re thinking, how can the dialogue not be that big of an issue? Primarily, it’s because the issues with it run about as far as the first act. From the time that Oppenheimer arrives to lead the project at Los Alamos, from the time that the film becomes rooted in fact (as much as a biopic can be), these issues are washed away. Nolan has a habit of writing dialogue as if the characters are aware they’re in a film, a standout from early in the film is during a rainy train journey where Rabi tells Oppenheimer ‘there’s a man you need to meet’. Oppenheimer replies with ‘Heisenberg’. It feels like the ‘getting the gang together’ cliché from every heist movie. The first act of the film is frenetic, all building towards the building of Los Alamos, telling us why that location was chosen, why the major players were assembled there. It’s still enjoyable to watch, don’t get me wrong, but the dialogue sparkles far more throughout the rest of the film.

Unlike most biopics, or at least the ones that I’ve seen, much of this film is based on factual events, drawing from transcripts of the 1954 security clearance hearing and the 1959 confirmation hearing of Lewis Strauss. I’ve read some of the security clearing transcripts, they’re not thrilling reading and they’re certainly not brief, but it’s interesting how much of the dialogue is lifted out of them. It’s far too long to try to read all of, but I find myself glancing over familiar snippets. The questioning of Kitty was almost verbatim from the transcripts as well. I’ve been trying to find Robb’s examination of Oppenheimer regarding his objection to the development of a hydrogen bomb, when the room lights up as though by a nuclear light before fading, but I’ve been unable to. To be fair, there are twenty-nine volumes of the transcripts, many of which are over one hundred pages long. At any rate, what I’m trying to get at is that these conversations, these existing and recorded transcripts, provide some of the best moments of the film. For the confirmation hearing, it’s actually the imagined (at least, I can’t see how they aren’t) conversations between Strauss and Alden Ehrenreich’s unnamed character that pop the most. Robert Downey Jr. is fantastic as Strauss, portraying his arrogance and the way he completely loses it after David L. Hill takes to the stand to let the hearing know all of the betrayal and manipulation that Strauss has done to attempt to secure his place at Congress.

I’ve mentioned how the whole film builds up to its ending, this is partly due to the very strict three act structure that Nolan follows. You can almost see the staging being moved off camera as the story first covers Oppenheimer’s early life until he is recruited to lead the Manhattan Project, the events at Los Alamos and finally his life following the war. This is interspersed with scenes from the security clearance and the confirmation hearings, but they all serve to bring us into and provide context for Oppenheimer’s story. The conversation between Oppenheimer and Einstein by the pond, unheard until the end of the film, is the driving force for the events of Oppenheimer’s life following his work at Los Alamos. I won’t spoil what is said, that would be mean, but it is almost worth watching the whole film for that alone.

The score is also fantastic. Composed by Ludwig Göransson, it is impactful and tense, being a driving force behind several scenes in the film. I’ll use this opportunity to talk about the build up to the Trinity test, probably the best use of sound throughout the film. There’s a frenetic build up of violins to the detonation of the world’s first nuclear device, following the different groups of people waiting to watch the explosion. From the soldiers to the scientists, to Oppenheimer himself, we feel the tension in the air as they await the unknown. Obviously the detonation didn’t set off a chain reaction that burned the Earth’s atmosphere, but you almost feel like it could. I could feel the vibrations in the theatre as the bomb went off, was almost blinded by the pure, white light of destruction. I could feel the cheer at its success, and the realisation of what had been done, what they had created.

Immersion is the name of Nolan’s game, he has become THE director who must be watched in cinemas, and you can see why. You can’t help but be pulled into not only the events of the film, but the ethical debate surrounding such events. You, as the audience, are invited in to the discussion and the conversation, all the different sides of the story. It’s intimate in a way that I have rarely seen from Nolan, whose films I usually find cold and distant even as I find myself entertained and awed by them. This is probably his most focussed film, his most polished, simply because we are invited in. He has not left us on the sidelines to watch events play out, as I felt was the case in Dunkirk especially, but we feel as if we are sitting there in that little room, watching Oppenheimer get torn apart in a kangaroo court, lying down with a piece of welding glass in front of our eyes, seeing the visions of the destruction and terror wrought upon the world. I’ve always admired Nolan’s work, but this is the crowning jewel. I can’t wait to see where he’ll take us next.

Just as a nice little side note, considering my criticism of the ‘getting the band together’ dialogue and how he literally gets the band together when recruiting for Los Alamos, I loved how this film was a ‘who’s who’ of famous actors. They felt like cameos, but fun. Jack Quaid playing the bongos? Go on. I could write another few thousand words about Oppenheimer, but I’ll conclude here.

Right then, back with a bang. I had the honour? Privilege? Punishment? Of being able to watch this before it was released, so some scenes may have been edited slightly for the final film. However, unless said final edits were to change the entire film to something completely different, I’m fairly confident that I can give my accurate take on the film.

What a mess. I don’t think I can remember when I last watched something that had such a clear lack of vision, such a mish-mash of ideas that either didn’t work or really didn’t work, in a long time. Scratch that, because that reminds me of DC’s own Justice League which came out just a few short years ago. At least that one had the excuse of being made by two completely polarised directors, although what we ended up with was one of the most generic, milquetoast blockbusters ever made, in a field that so often lends itself to crowd-pleasing mediocrity. But I digress, if I wanted to talk about Justice League, I would, but that about sums up everything I have to say anyway.

Back to the topic at hand, there are just so, so many baffling decisions. Too many fingers in the pie, methinks, but surely someone at some point was watching this all come together and said ‘come on, this is a mess’. First and foremost, how was Ezra Miller allowed to be in this film? From terrorising the people of Hawaii to the harassment and kidnapping allegations, why on earth didn’t the film makers do everything they could to distance themselves from this person? I won’t say anymore before I get too libellous, but I’m sure alternate arrangements could be made. This is just a drop in the ocean though.

                Time travel/multi-verse stories are a penny-a-pound now, and this film combines the worst aspects of all of them. It’s a tick box exercise for all the worst cliches across the genres. The hero goes to find an old friend only to find they’re someone different? Multiple versions of the hero? Hero goes to find someone but uh-oh they don’t exist anymore? Really minute change that has no impact on anything (more on that later)? The threat of a collapsing muti-verse? All ticks, all in there. If DC were looking for a greatest hits video as James Gunn’s saga is about to launch, they have failed miserably. For a film which could have been so exciting and so interesting, and a farewell to the messy and muddled existing DC cinematic universe, they have achieved nothing. My annoyance at this film has only grown in the months since watching it, and I found myself frequently rolling my eyes in the cinema at the time already.

Oh yes, as all time travel seem to be required by law to do, there’s an overly simplified, kind of boring explanation of how the internal mechanics of all of this time travel and universe mixing works, which in this case is explained by an old and tired Batman with a bowl of spaghetti. Bring back ‘wibbly wobbly, timey wimey’ from Doctor Who any day of the week, because time travel analogies within fiction are almost always unnecessary. It’s a superhero film with a man who can run faster than light, another man who can’t run fast anymore and old Batman, just go with it. Why are we still doing this?

On the topic of ‘how did this make it in’, what was with the constant ‘Eric Stoltz was almost Marty McFly’ jokes? It happened first reasonably early in the film, where there’s a reference to Back to the Future and everyone other than Barry says how great Eric Stoltz is in the role, the actor who was first cast as the lead. I get that any mainstream film that even mentions time travel has to reference Back to the Future at least once, it’s a rite of passage, but this was incessant and just weird by the end. Was it all a set up for the Nic Cage cameo near the end, another actor who almost played a character? God only knows, but it wasn’t funny the first time and it wasn’t funny the twentieth. More to the point, why was this and about three other things changed as a consequence of Barry changing the past? I feel like there are going to be a lot of rhetorical questions here, but they serve to sum up my incredulity at a vast number of creative decisions made during the process of this film. As far as I can remember, Barry going back in time a few years manages to: save his mum, recast Batman and recast Marty McFly. That’s it. How weird.

However, there is one bright spot in this film, and it’s Sasha Calle’s portrayal of Supergirl. I fondly remember the TV series starring Melissa Benoist, and as cheesy and rubbish as the show often was, it had real heart. While her brief screentime doesn’t give her the time to shine that she deserved, I though Calle had a really nice performance in this film. She had the hope, and often the rage, that to me defines the character of Supergirl – she fights for what she believes in, but her anger at the injustice and terror that others face highlights the basic strokes of her moral compass. Honestly, written down that all sounds really broad and obvious, but I don’t care. She was a fun character to watch on screen.

I could go on all day about my issues with this film, but I won’t. This negativity has gone on for just about long enough. Any interesting or emotional moments were undercut by the other nonsense going on. Ezra Miller wasn’t good at acting any role they had, and as they had three that’s impressive in its own right. Michael Keaton and Michael Shannon clearly had no clue why they were there, but I don’t blame them. A payday is a payday. There’s a glimmer of light in the future with James Gunn taking charge, as I’ve enjoyed most of his superhero films so far, but I’m just so bored of it all. At least Across the Spider-Verse was good.

I’m going to mix things up a little and try a series I’m going to dub First Impressions, giving you my thoughts on the first episode of a television series. Some will be things that I’ve watched before – like this one, Glee, and some will be brand new ones that I’ve never watched. Let’s see how this goes. (Side note to the reader, I wrote this before my post on 3 Body Problem, because I’m really organised).

Glee was brilliant, at times. Like most series over a run of several years, there were ups and there were downs, but Glee at its height was one of the funniest, most enjoyable pieces of television that I’ve ever seen. I’m not exaggerating. For whatever this show might have become, I think that the whole first season was incredible, and that starts with the Pilot (as American shows often do, just spend five minutes thinking of a name for the episode, I beg of you).

So much of an American TV pilot’s runtime is dedicated to introducing as many characters as possible in as much detail possible in as little time as possible, which lends itself well to the quick cuts and snappy dialogue so often seen throughout the run of Glee. I used to hate the way the camera cut what felt like every half a second, but on rewatches I’ve found myself loving it. Anyway, Will is kind of useless, Emma has OCD, Sue is brilliant, Ken is sad and lonely, Rachel is a drama queen who will do anything to get her way, Finn is conflicted, I could go on. Through the auditions for the Glee club, we get a good sense of all the other major players that we’ll carry on seeing. Tina even writes her name with a stutter, which is something I’ve only just caught. Glee is so full of all these little visual jokes that work so well, and they’re very much ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ due to the speedy camera cuts.

Already in the first episode, Rachel and Sue are the absolute standout characters. While the rest of them fit varyingly within and without the caricatures that they are destined to parody, Rachel in particular is striking from the first moment she appears on screen. From her fake crying to get the old Glee coach fired to signing off her name with a gold star, she’s golden. No, I didn’t intend that. Yes, I’m leaving that in. She’s delusional about everything other than her incredible talent, and as annoying as her character is, she’s the star of the show. If she wasn’t she’d let you know about it.

Sue is too of course, but Jane Lynch was always destined to be brilliant. Her first line of ‘you think this is hard, try being water-boarded, that’s hard’ is so good, and you can see throughout the episode the different jokes they tried out for the opening scene. While her influence and power as a character wanes throughout the show, as she becomes more and more overused, she starts off incredibly and carries on for at least a couple more years. Jessalyn Gilsig is another standout as Will’s domineering, overbearing and slightly psychotic wife. ‘I’m on my feet four hours a day, three days a week here’ is essentially her opening line here too, and yeah, written down this stuff isn’t so funny, but trust me, it is.

What I think is the truest testament to the quality of this episode is that I’ve seen so few of the things that Glee parodies and pastiches. You’ve got the fourteen to sixteen-year-olds played exclusively by people aged twenty-five or older and the strict caste system of jocks and cheerleaders above everyone else. The only things I’ve seen which feature Glee clubs are this and Pitch Perfect, which both kind of make fun of the concept of a Glee club, which I’m pretty sure are an alien concept to anyone outside of the USA. Yet, despite that, I find myself getting the jokes. It’s true that as the show goes on, it seems to become what it’s parodying. This is a fatal flaw in pretty much every Ryan Murphy production, it’s like he forgets what he was doing in the first place and goes to playing everything way too straight. The first season of Glee is brilliant though, and the first episode starts things off brilliantly.

I haven’t even mentioned the music yet, and that’s where most of the show’s heart comes from. There’s a lot of telling each other how they feel through songs, which sounds cheesier and more insufferable than it is. I remember the first time this episode was on TV it featured a scene with Will singing ‘Leaving on a Jet Plane’ because he was leaving his job, and my dad walked in and said ‘I take it that guy is leaving to go somewhere’. I think that sums up how on the nose the music in this show can be, but in later episodes it gets so much more fun. Finn singing ‘(You’re) Having My Baby’ to Quinn without realising he’s outing her pregnancy to her parents is hilarious. I won’t mention Will’s white-man rapping though. ‘Gold Digger’ is something to be forgotten.

I’ll finish before I get too ahead of myself though. As a first episode, this is a triumph. If you like it, chances are you’ll enjoy the show before abandoning it somewhere in the fourth season and then picking it up several years later to see how it all ends. That’s based on a true story. If you don’t like it, well, you never will.