Sympathy for the devil?

Considering George W. Bush's eventful time in office, it’s perhaps surprising that Oliver Stone’s controversial biopic of the man, W. (aka ‘Dub-ya’), feels so underwhelming. This fish-out-of-water story is by no means without its merits (Josh Brolin is hugely charismatic as the man himself) but, coming as it does days before Bush’s successor is elected, it seems that in the rush to beat the man to the Oval Office door Stone has taken his eye off the ball.

The film opens in 2002 with Bush and his cabinet/cronies discussing – with darkly comic undertones – the so-called Axis of Evil (Iran, Iraq and North Korea), before jumping back to the 1960s for a glimpse of his Alcohol-fuelled fraternity days. This bog-standard time-hopping style continues as it charts the key moments and relationships during his time in office alongside his unlikely rise to power.

Bush-haters hoping to find a two dimensional war-monger at the heart of a vitriolic parting-shot will be sorely disappointed. Sure, the drama that unfolds paints a man full of shortcomings – young Bush is frequently selfish, lazy and loutish – but the overwhelming feeling you’re left with is actually sympathy.

Stone’s Bush is a man living in the shadow of his father, George Bush Snr. His desperate efforts to please ‘Poppy’ Bush combine with family privilege and see him stray dramatically out of his depth. This is not a bad man, just the wrong one for the job.

Brolin holds the screen throughout and the supporting cast are largely excellent. However, despite a refreshing central arc that validates the choice of subject, Stone’s surprisingly dogged pursuit of sympathy (Richard Dreyfuss’s Machiavellian Dick Cheney is the real baddie here) actually robs the film of anything particularly dramatic and, shock horror, anything particularly controversial. A missed opportunity – entertaining, but missed nonetheless. Tony Griffiths

Religu-fabu-lous!

If you've just left HUNGER feeling like your stomach is still on the floor of the cinema, then we heartily recommend Bill Maher and Larry Charles' hilarous fun-poke at organised religion everywhere, RELIGULOUS, as a pick-me-up.

Moving beyond the "killing with kindness" methods of Louis Theroux or "masked mocking" a la Borat, Mayer brazenly ridicules some of the worlds biggest religious organisations and doesn't manage to find a single spokesperson who can stop their belief system from sounding totally ridiculous.

"If there's one thing I hate more than prophecy," explains Mayer in the introduction, "it's self-fulfilling prophecy" - relating modern warfare and terrorism done in the name of religion to the prophecies of doom and armageddon they cling to.

Smarter than Michael Moore's stuff, full of jaw-dropping "did they really just say that?" moments and plain laugh-out-loud funny this is essential viewing for anyone who's wondered what's the point of it all. You'll leave a true non-believer. Louise Steggals

COMING SOON: EXCLUSIVE COMMENT FROM DIRECTOR, LARRY CHARLES!!

Liam Neeson discovers 11th commandment: Thou shalt not covet The Void's clothing

Tony Griffiths gets his “story for the grandkids” moment at the premiere of The Other Man:

“Hey, cool t-shirt,” says Liam Neeson, spotting the mock-Japanese Star Wars motif plastered across my chest. In an ill-advised moment of star-induced fawning, all questions relating to tonight’s red carpet premier of The Other Man – a thriller in which Neeson plays a big-time CEO who becomes convinced his wife (Laura Linney) is cheating – momentarily fly out the window. In their place crashes an unfortunate mound of Star Wars trivia; previously stored in a box clearly labelled ‘avoid’.

Thankfully, Neeson’s portrayal of a Jedi Master in the first Star Wars prequel is something he doesn’t mind revisiting (big surprise: Episode 1’s his favourite of the new instalments). He has, after all, built his career on intense dramas – such as tonight’s film – and blockbusters, alike. “I enjoy both types of role,” he says. “There’s definitely room for them both. There are audiences for all kinds of cinema.”

The Other Man, which deals with the difficult subject of adultery, is clearly a more dramatic piece. “I would like the audience to be affected emotionally,” says director Richard Eyre, who has explored similar themes of love and betrayal in Notes on a Scandal. “I want them to ask questions, and think about their own lives.”

Both Eyre and Neeson proved instrumental in bringing co-star Laura Linney to the project. “It was Liam and Richard that attracted me,” she admits. “Liam and I have worked together before. This is our fourth film, and third marriage!”

Portraying a relationship that has spanned 20 years, as they do in The Other Man, can’t have been too much of a push then. Doomed or not, it seems this latest onscreen romance is unlikely to be their last.

Joe Meek: Monster or magician? We can't decide

The music biopic has almost turned into Heat magazine for the film industry. Another day, another character's idiosyncracies, personal tragedies and failures lay open raw for the public's viewing pleasure.

Nick Moran's take on Joe Meek, the producer behind the Tornadoes biggest hit, TELSTAR (giving this film it's title) portrays a man with unwavering belief in his own genius who goes potty with alarming rapidity as his insular world collapses around his ears. What you think of the film depends on what you know of Meek and his work.

Con O'Neill is certainly mesmerising in the role of the flamboyant producer, although there are mutters in the audience that he is too old for the role. Still, he manages to flip from pathetic to monstrous to completely off his rocker extremely well, creating sympathy for a man who slowly pushed away the people in his life with a terrifying temper and the consuming obsession with his gorgeous protege Heinz (superbly played by JJ Feild).

As we are taken on Meek's spiral of self-destruction that leads to his suicide it's hard to grasp what Moran's intention was - to explain the workings of a creative genius or- what seems to come out of the film- to demonstrate that Meek was actually a sad and somewhat strange, lonely man who was handy with electronics and rode to success on the coat tails of his more talented co-composer Geoff Goddard.

A strong supporting cast (although Kevin Spacey's Major Banks' accent gets so "stiff-upper lip British" as to verge on farcical) make this a compelling watch but one can't help but feel that if Moran had wished to remind us of a unique brilliance, it's not been achieved here. Louise Steggals

Kauffman dazzles, Kerrigan flops

One of the films causing a buzz is Charlie Kauffman's directorial debut SYNEDOCHE, NEW YORK. Confusing title? Let’s just call it the tip of the iceberg.

Those that know Kauffman’s dalliances with cinema so far, most notably his scripts for ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND and ADAPTATION, will have some inkling of the mind-bending journey to follow, but few will expect this Lynchian puzzle-box. This morality tale starring the sublime – consistently so, it seems these days – Philip Seymour Hoffman, about a disillusioned theatre director’s struggle to make sense of his life, is as mystifying as it is ambitious (a life-size model of New York!?). It may also be a modern masterpiece. It’s difficult to tell on one viewing, though with a charm that draws you in rather than pushes you away, it certainly suggests it’s along those lines. One to get you talking, if nothing else.

In stark contrast to Kauffman's majestic affair is Justin Kerrigan’s incredibly personal effort, I KNOW YOU KNOW.

Set in south Wales in 1988, the film is a semi-autobiographical ode to the director’s relationship with his father, played by Robert Carlyle. The bond is strong between father and son (13-year-old Jamie, played by newcomer Arron Fuller) and it’s one that will be tested as the pair’s realities soon begin to drift apart.

This purely intimate affair paints a stark contrast to Synecdoche’s grand aspirations, and, unfortunately, the sense you got watching Kauffman’s film, that you were possibly witnessing something magnificent unfolding, is also markedly absent.

It can feel a little mean to criticise a film with such obvious heart, like trashing a charity pop single, but, despite a good turn from Fuller, the film can’t help but allow itself to be swamped by sentimentality, and offers little plot to get the teeth into. A film for the filmmaker rather than the audience.

With Spike Lee’s MIRACLE IN ST ANNA rolling into town for it's gala premiere in the evening, the feeling that movies are top of London’s menu is beginning to sink in. Tony Griffiths

Frost/Nixon draws the crowds as the festival kicks off

Hundreds of fans gathered to see Michael Sheen, Frank Langella and Kevin Bacon at the World Premiere of FROST/NIXON, the opening film for the 52nd film festival. The Void's Tony Griffiths gives us his take on the film:

"As the title suggests, this is an intellectual face/off; a dramatic reconstruction of David Frost’s now legendary series of interviews with Richard Nixon. It’s the News Night equivalent of a heavy-weight boxing match, and though it may be a little heavy-handed in its execution, it still manages to wring as much tension, drama and (aptly) sweat from its premise as any prize fight.

It’s 1977, and with the recent Watergate scandal leading Richard Nixon to resign the presidency, British talk-show host David Frost smells a ratings hit. The four interviews (or rounds if you will) that Frost subsequently secures with Nixon will have explosive results.

Howard’s decision to follow up the turkey that was The Da Vinci Code using such universally acclaimed material (the film is an adaptation of the Peter Morgan play) was a smart if safe move. Securing the play’s same principal actors – Michael Sheen as Frost and Frank Langella as Nixon – on the other hand, was a masterstroke. It’s the cast that makes it.

Early attempts to show Frost as the bout’s underdog, a ratings-hungry playboy to Nixon’s political animal, have Sheen reduce him to an unintentionally amusing mixture of Alan Partridge and Austin Powers. Once the set-up’s out the way however, his opening exchanges with Langella give a taste of the charismatic spats to follow.

Langella’s portrayal of the disgraced ex-president is faultless. Given how easy it is to reduce Nixon to the sweat-ridden jowly caricature we’re used too (Futurama, anyone?), that Langella manages to elicit a huge amount of sympathy – and humour – from the wounded tiger’s corrupt core is an impressive feat; somewhat ironic too, considering the aspirations of the original interviews.

The duelling metaphor hinted at initially may have served the battle of wits better than the bruising boxing analogy it makes way for, and the misguided use of talking heads could have been dispensed with altogether, but, ultimately, this is a wonderfully dramatic interpretation and a great opener for the festival."