Vince Vaughn – Movie Musings

Second-tier Spielberg sequel, one-for-the-money but still entertaining for fans of Dinosaur action

Director: Steven Spielberg

Cast: Jeff Goldblum (Dr Ian Malcolm), Julianne Moore (Dr Sarah Harding), Pete Postlethwaite (Roland Tembo), Arliss Howard (Peter Ludlow), Richard Attenborough (Dr John Hammond), Vince Vaughn (Nick Van Owen), Vanessa Lee Chester (Kelly Curtis), Peter Stormare (Dieter Stark), Harvey Jason (Ajay Sidhu), Richard Schiff (Eddie Carr)

Sometimes I wonder if Spielberg even remembers he directed The Lost World. I guess he wanted something to ease him back in after a few years off, which came with a nice big pile of cash to set up Dreamworks. There isn’t anything particularly wrong with The Lost World. It just feels from top-to-bottom like something rolled off a production line, largely devoid of any of the spark or magic you associate with the director. It’s like a Spielberg-pastiche and, while still better than several films in the franchise that followed, it’s unlikely to last 65 million years in the mind.

After the disaster of Jurassic Park, turns out there was a Site B. John Hammond (Richard Attenborough) plans to let the dinos there live freely, under observation. But InGen, now led by his greedy nephew Peter Ludlow (Arliss Howard), plans to exploit the dinos for cash. Hammond recruits Ian Malcolm (Jeff Goldblum) as part of an island team to build a case for protecting the dinosaurs – having already recruited his Malcolm’s girlfriend Sarah Harding (Julianne Moore). Malcolm high-tails it to the dangerous island to get her back (accidentally dragging his kid Kelly (Vanessa Lee Chester) along), only to find Ludlow also on the island, guided by big game-hunter Roland Tempo (Pete Postlethwaite) to capture dinosaurs. Soon “oohs” and “aahhs” turn to “arragghhs!”.

It was adapted pretty much in name only from Michael Chrichton’s Jurassic Park sequel – in fact, several of its most memorable scenes (such as Stormare’s character being munched by compeys, or its child-attacked-on-a-beach opening) are in fact unused material from Chrichton’s first book. The film feels like a wall where a collection of fun-sounding ideas have been chucked to see what it sticks, right down to the sudden gear-change final act with a T-Rex causing havoc in the streets of San Diego. To make this work, major characters consistently make sudden, contradictory or flat-out-stupid decisions, or abruptly disappear once their plot function has been served.

In fact, it’s basically a film of set-pieces with a very, very thinly plotted through-line. The main beats are either thuddingly obvious (can Malcolm bond with his kid?) or get completely lost (the very-lightly sketched non-intervention plans that kickstart the film quickly get dropped completely). What’s important instead is that this is a series of chases against dangerous dinos, with the T-Rex and the velociraptors playing narrative tag between them as flesh-eating antagonists with various (mostly unsympathetic) humans filling out their lunchboxes.

Spielberg is still Spielberg though, so when he gets into a set-piece it tends to be a good one. The T-Rex assault on our heroes caravan base (in a particularly great Spielberg touch, Moore finds herself on a slowly cracking glass windscreen with a deadly drop below) is genuinely exciting – and, in the fate of Richard Schiff’s luckless team mate, genuinely a bit sad. The rag-tag remains of both parties desperately trying to escape the island gives us exciting T-Rex attacks, Stormare (as slimily detestable as only he can be) eaten by a hundred compeys is well-executed and, finally, a brilliantly conceived sequence of raptors ploughing like torpedoes through a forest of long grass to pluck off stragglers is really striking, despite being very short.

These sit alongside (admittedly fun) set-pieces that also feel a little silly. The entire final sequence of the T-Rex fits neatly into this, full of cartoonish nonsense (a doghouse hanging by a lead from the T-Rex after a dog is consumed, or a giant pool ball sent rolling down a road in its carnage) as people scream, run about and generally panic as the T-Rex bombards down a busy high street. That’s without even thinking about the silliness that the T-Rex, like Dracula on the Demeter, kills everyone on the ship transporting it (including getting its massive body inside some really tiny rooms, to leave grisly remains like a hand hanging from a wheel) then calmly goes back inside its storage hold and (presumably) locks itself back in again.

But then this is also a film that throws in a chase between three of our leads and a group of velociraptors (which feels narratively its there to kill time while a miscast Vince Vaughan – as an all-action animal rights activist of all things – phones for help) which builds towards the totally absurd sight of a 12-year-old dispatching a velocitator to a spikey death via her gymnastic skills. It really hammers home how wildly the velociraptors’ skills vary: against Postlethwaite’s hunters they are ruthlessly effective; here Moore slows them down with well-aimed roof tiles, a limping Goldblum deters one with a car door and of course, Kelly uses them to show why she should never have been cut from the school sports team.

The Lost World barrels along leaving logic in its wake. Julianne Moore’s Sarah Harding is set-up as an expert on animal-survivalism, but in her first scene is nearly killed by that humble “children’s favourite dinosaur” the Stegosaurus, after startling their baby with her noisy camera (she learns nothing from this about the protectiveness dinosaurs have for their young). She presents a list of strict survival “rules”, all of which she promptly breaks, culminating in walking miles in a shirt soaked in T-Rex blood, after telling us their sense of smell is a superpower. Meanwhile Goldblum’s feelings towards Hammond veer between frustration and deep respect depending on the immediate requirements of the scene.

The film is in fact a parade of characters behaving stupidly and slightly miscast actors. –Moore’s chippy feistiness makes her seem reckless and out-of-her-depth rather than plucky and brave, Goldblum isn’t quite right as action hero (interestingly. I can’t really think of them playing as conventional action adventure roles as this again). As a result, its most compelling character is actually Pete Postlethwaite’s Allan Quartermain-throwback. Postlethwaite is by far the film’s most assured and authoritative performer, makes his character the film’s most professional and logical, and our heroes so frequently look frustratingly smug (and incompetent), that you end up seeing things more from his side. Postlethwaite is greatly missed when he departs the film abruptly before the final act.

That all sounds really harsh doesn’t it? The Lost World may well be very much second tier Spielberg, full of moments that don’t quite work, are very silly or feel half-baked. But despite that, it’s swift, pacey and generally entertaining even when it’s stupid. Because when Spielberg fills a bowl of popcorn, he generally knows just how much butter and salt to add in. It’s never going to be anyone favourite Jurassic Park film, but it’s still going to be good entertainment for a Saturday night.

Andrew Garfield embodies true heroism in Mel Gibson’s war drama

Director: Mel Gibson

Cast: Andrew Garfield (Desmond Doss), Vince Vaughn (Sergeant Howell), Sam Worthington (Captain Glover), Luke Bracey (Smitty Riker), Teresa Palmer (Dorothy Schutte), Hugo Weaving (Tom Doss), Rachael Griffiths (Bertha Doss), Ryan Corr (Lieutenant Manville).

There is a slight odour hanging over Hacksaw Ridge. Few Hollywood superstars fell as hard and as far as Mel Gibson has done in the past few years. As such, the fact that this film has been such a critical and commercial hit is being seen as redemption. While I’m not sure any film could really be that, it’s certainly a clear expression of many of the things that made him a successful superstar – a carefully made blockbuster that tells a simple story, in a way that mixes sentiment and violence, built around a hero it is impossible not to admire and respect.

Desmond Doss (Andrew Garfield) is a young Virginian, deterred from violence early in his childhood, who volunteers for service in the Second World War, willing to do everything he can to support the war effort except hold a rifle and take a life. Instead, inspired by his fiancée (a nurse) he wants to serve as an army medic – to do his bit for his country, while standing by his principles. Needless to say his decision is not greeted warmly by his army comrades – but at the Battle of Okinawa, as his unit goes into service, he proves his heroism saving lives during the Battle of Hacksaw Ridge.

Firstly, before going any further into the merits of the film, Andrew Garfield’s performance in the lead role is extraordinarily good in its simplicity, straightforwardness and aw-shuckscharm. Never once does his guilelessness and honesty ever become wearing – instead (and Gibson’s direction helps) he is a man you immediately root for, who you can respect without him feeling perfect. It’s a terrific performance, respectful and admiring but also real. Gibson’s camera showcases his heroism in an unfussy way, avoiding too many directing flourishes – which makes these scenes of life-saving all the more inspiring. A perfect match of actor and role.

There are also plenty of fine supporting performances – Hugo Weaving is very good as Doss’s shell shocked father, barely able to understand his emotions, with Rachael Griffiths similarly good as his caring mother. Sam Worthington gives perhaps a career best performance as Doss’ captain. Even Vince Vaughan, while sometimes trying too hard as a gruff sergeant, quickly settles into giving one of his finest performances. Teresa Palmer is very sweet as Doss’ fiancée. In fact, there is not a bad performance in it.

But what of the film? Perhaps only Mel Gibson could direct a film that is simultaneously a celebration of pacifism and an endorsement of righteous war. This is perhaps one of the most visceral war films you are likely to see, with bullets ripping bodies in half, the camera unflinchingly recording every injury in gory detail. Say what you like about Gibson, but as an ‘experience’ film maker he is extraordinarily good – he knows how to immerse the audience in ways few others do. He also brilliantly shows both the terror of combat and the courage of soldiers. His staging of the war is tense and gripping, without being sensationalist. In fact, I don’t hesitate to place its depiction of war up there with Saving Private Ryan, combining the savagery of combat with the uplifting courage of a man who only went there to save lives.

Surprisingly one of the strengths of Gibson’s film-making is that he is a very simplistic story teller. His films are morality tales of right and wrong. His heroes, be they William Wallace or Jesus Christ, have overcome burdens to build peaceful homes before a call of duty shatters their world. In a way, that makes Desmond Doss a perfect match for him. The structure of the film, and the familiar beats in the first half of the film, ticking off influences on Doss’ life with a straightforwardness bordering on cliché, all work because they are presented with a guileless genuineness. Gibson successfully establishes a character who feels like an ordinary man who goes on to place himself in an extraordinary position.

Gibson’s simplicity as a story-teller has its drawbacks in the presentations of the antagonists in the film. The Japanese are presented as little better than a faceless horde, a fanatical band of killers, consumed with ruthlessness and lacking all sense of moral decency. Of course, that is to be expected from seeing the film solely from the Western side. But it sits slightly uncomfortably in a film that want to endorse Doss’ values. There are touches of even-handedness – a moment where Doss treats a terrified Japanese soldier in a bunker, or references to a few of the enemy that he lowered off the cliff (although Gibson isn’t afraid to have a soldier bluntly state “They all died” when asked what happened to them). But in a film that claims pacifism is something to admire, showing one half of the conflict as almost universally unfeeling monsters doesn’t always sit right.

This conflict between pacifism and righteous war, is one the film struggles with throughout. If anything it wants to have its cake and eat it too. It wants us to acknowledge the principle of pacifism as a good thing. But it’s also almost scared of being accused of presenting any idea that might be accused of detracting anything from the heroism of the generation that fought the Second World War.

How Doss squared his moral beliefs with helping the men alongside him to carry on killing is none of my business. It’s certain Doss is a far wiser, braver and kinder man than I could ever hope to be, and his actions were genuine, decent, honest and in keeping with his personal morality. I don’t understand his thinking, but that doesn’t matter and the film knows it doesn’t matter, that we don’t need to completely understand to respect. The film wisely avoids any hokey scenes where Doss explains his convictions. It presents what Doss did as a fact, and says to us “here it is”. The man was involved in a hellish war, but he did what he believed was the right thing to do, and he saved dozens of lives doing it. If we can celebrate the actions of the men on the Normandy beaches fighting Nazism, or the pilots of the Battle of Britain, then we certainly can salute Gibson for bringing to the world’s attention this honourable, decent, brave and above all genuine man.

For all his faults, this film proves Gibson is a first rate filmmaker. Here, he has made a moving war film that, although it seems to be trying to be many things to many people, still manages to contain a moral message and highlights a man who deserves to be remembered. It may have confusion at its heart about its true attitude towards war – but I believe it does have that heart in the right place, is trying to send a positive message to the world, and is a highly impressive and compelling piece of filmmaking.