Bit of a lengthy sit yesterday.
First off was Trumbo. Dalton Trumbo (crazy name) was a Hollywood screenwriter. Subpoenaed by the House Un-American Activities Committee and sent to jail for 11 months in 1947 basically for thinking his daughter should share her packed school lunch with her best friend if the friend had forgotten her own (crazy guy), on release he was blacklisted but made a living writing screenplays under pseudonyms (and winning two Oscars along the way (one for Roman Holiday and one for The Brave One)). The subsequent revelation that he also wrote Exodus and I Am Spartacus effectively ended the blacklisting. There's a good film to be made out of this story, but it's not this one. Trumbo is presented as an All-American Hero battling against unseen forces, the little man speaking truth unto power. Ironically one of his opponents is All-American Hero John Wayne and the film struggles to resolve such complexities. The acting is hammy and the characters overegged. It's like listening to a good ol' boy giving a social history lesson in very simplistic terms to someone he thinks is a dolt. The Coen Brothers' Hail, Caesar! is a far better take on the era and the industry (and Tilda Swinton (more of whom later) plays a far better gossip reporter than Helen Mirren). A pity because John McNamara's screenplay itself is, fittingly, rather good, with some funny and smart lines in it if you can listen through the delivery, and the subtle soundtrack by Theodore Shapiro is also worth listening to (a cross between Miles Davis circa Miles Ahead - biopic forthcoming!! - and Tom Waits's backing group circa Swordfishtrombones). My other half thought it was good. A grudging 6/10 from me.
Next up was Brooklyn. And it lived down to expectations. Irish girl emigrates to America, is homesick, falls in love with Italian boy but returns to Ireland when her sister dies, and falls in love (the girl not the dead sister) with an Irish boy. The film hinges on whether she returns to America or stays in County Wexford. A bit of a sloshy, slushy story with no real tension to elicit or sustain interest. However, it received rave reviews on release and was nominated for three Oscars. So it found its audience somewhere. Save the price of admission because it will be on television soon, just not at Christmas or Easter. Not really up to me to give it a mark out of 10 but my companion and I ranked it below Trumbo. A brief biographical note, my great-grandmother apparently emigrated from Ireland to Brooklyn and then returned to Ireland. If I'd had the nous to turn that into a film I could have been sat in LA's Dolby Theatre last February.
And finally the feature, feature film of the evening, as it were. A Bigger Splash, Tilda Swinton is a rock star recovering from a throat operation on a remote Italian island. She and her boyfriend are unexpectedly and awkwardly visited by her ex-lover and his Lolita-ish daughter. Friction builds as they sit around the pool, skinny-dipping, getting drunk (apart from Swinton's ex-alcoholic/ex-druggy current beau), reminiscing about the past and arguing. A bit of a flimsy excuse for a two-hour film but it is carried joyfully along by Ralph Fiennes, playing the loud-mouthed, self-obsessed, bore of an ex. His dancing to Emotional Rescue is a shaming lesson in how to throw shapes for all Dad dancers like me. A magnificent performance from him as a counterpoint to the mute Swinton (throat operation). 7/10.