Top 5 "Oo, That Looks Good" Movies of 2014

The new year has arrived at long last; we only had to wait 365 days or so for it. And with the new year comes the long wait for the inevitable wave of summer blockbusters that arrive every June with the timing and grace of only the most punctual and voluminous menstrual sloughs.

There is never not a good moment to use this image.

Summer this year seems to be set to flood us like so much body-temperature uterus lining with a veritable smorgasbord of exactly the same movies over and over again. With lots of lasers and jumping and looking seriously into the distance, sci-fi and alien invasion seem to be the aim of the game, so be prepared for, well, lots of sci-fi and aliens; along with the obligatory kids animated movie sequels and another superhero movie, because we're totally not tired of them yet. Yay.

Why can't we all just wait patiently for Ant-Man?

That said, there's still plenty to be excited all through the year so, without further ado (or adon't), I give you my top 5 list of movies that, as the title suggests, make you lean over to your mate in the cinema and shout-whisper, "Dude, we need to see that." Let us begin with:

5. Nymphomaniac: Volume 1 (Release: 21st February)

Subtle...

Oh Lars. What are you like? First Antichrist, now this. What with these, your porn films and that Nazi joke at the Cannes Film Festival two years ago, I almost feel like you're trying too hard to be controversial. And after the cataclysmically awful melodrama of Melancholia I'm starting to worry that you've actually lost your film-maker's touch. What happened? Where's another Dogville?

Won't you think of the children?!

I'm not a man to give up hope, however, and so this is your last chance, Lars, to restore my faith in you. I'm always a fan of the films that steer a little closer to the bone and sexuality has always been something that the film industry has shied away from like a young actress from a Hollywood producer's fly (who said that?!), so I commend the steel balls it must take to make a film that's essentially a two-part, five hour long mainstream porn movie. Whether it'll actually be any good of a film or just there for the shock factor (see Antichrist again) will only be a matter of time. I just hope Trier has realised that a little bit of subtlety and room for interpretation can go a long way.

Ah.

So, for those of you looking for plenty of sex, hamfisted imagery, disturbed characters and a little dash of Rammstein, this looks like the movie of the year for you. Here's the trailer (one of them was originally banned from YouTube), see if you can spot the subliminal vagina at the beginning:

4. The Lego Movie (Release: 14th February)

If you went to see Nymphomaniac and you now need a way to stop your children from crying inconsolably or worse, copying what they saw, you could take them to the next screen to see The Lego Movie. Yes, The Motherfucking Lego Movie. I'm a little too excited for this one as it's directed by Phil Lord and Chris Miller, the directors behind the glorious 21 Jump Street remake (the sequel is also coming out this year, but sadly ranked at number six on my list) and the solidly alright Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, features Morgan Freeman as God, co-stars Will Arnett from Arrested Development as Batman and Liam Neeson is in there somewhere too. There's not a single part of the production or casting line-up that makes me too worried about this becoming yet another all-too-formulaic kid's movie and thank Morgan Freeman, because Warner Bros. have the imaginations of countless children and former-children at stake here.

"Put all your money in a bag and hand it over or another beloved household name gets ruined." - Warner Bros. Marketing Department

Almost all of us have fond memories of ourselves or a sibling spending a rainy Sunday afternoon meticulously building a world of colourful blocks complete with characters, stories, drama and heaps of action; then destroying everything with an alien invasion or massive Godzilla earthquake or with whatever other characters or toys you happened to have lying around. The trailer for this movie evokes exactly the same kind of sense of boundless fun and joyously nonsensical carnage of the childhood imagination. Even the animation style is reminiscent of a kid moving Lego men around like hopscotch players before making the calculated executive decision to curtail the hunt for the secret cave of awesome and swallowing the pieces instead.

"Oh my god, it ate the General! All is lost!"

If all goes well, this will be one part loose "save the world" story, a hundred parts hilariously unhinged chaos and all made from the brightly coloured little blocks of nostalgia that we all know and love. Hit it, YouTube embed:

3. Interstellar (Release: 7th November)

Never before has a poster looked so...Nolany.

Let's go all the way to the end of the year and look at Christopher Nolan's next pet project, Interstellar. It's no surprise that pretty much all anyone outside the production team and cast knows about the movie is that it's something to do with astronauts and wormholes. The cast have stayed tight-lipped about any further details, as is customary with a Nolan movie, so all we can do is wait. Something that will obviously build speculation, and hype, and money. You cheeky bastard, Nolan. You wouldn't get away with this if all of your movies weren't so bloody good.

Nearly all of them.

Looking at the crew, it's certainly going to make for an interesting film. There's the production designer from The Dark Knight, the editor from Inception and Elysium (expect lots of fast shots and not a lot of knowing what's going on) and the cinematographer behind the chilling Let the Right One In, which means we're probably looking at a complicated, fast-paced, creepy movie with lots of twists and turns. So, yeah, a Christopher Nolan film. I canny wait! We'll just have to wait and see what he churns out, as the trailer doesn't really shed any further light on things:

2. The Wolf of Wall Street (Release: 17th January)

I'm kind of cheating here seeing as The Wolf of Wall Street, Martin Scorsese's new biopic of another Henry Hill-type sleazeball called Jordan Belfort, came out in the good old US of We'll Show Our Movies a Month Before You Get Them Ner-nee-ner-ner on Christmas Day, but it doesn't come out over here until mid-January, so I think it still counts.

You wouldn't look so happy without all of your missiles and stupid premiers, would you? Noooooo.
Dick.

A Scorsese movie is really best described by itself, so I present to you the trailer for Wolf of Wall Street and dare you to say that this doesn't have absolutely everything you want from a film in it, up to and including Leonardo DiCaprio's adorable smug-face (see poster above):

1. The Wind Rises (Release: Unannounced)

Hayao Miyazaki is retiring! Why, God, why?! His final movie, The Wind Rises, is a fictional account of the life of Jiro Horikoshi, the man behind the design of the Mitsubishi A5M fighter plane used by Japan during World War II, which eventually evolved into the famous "Kamikaze" A5M Zeros that were in that one good bit of Pearl Harbor. It's caused a bit of a stir over in Japan, what with a story humanising the designer of weapons of war seemingly going against Miyazaki's famously pacifist ideologies. The controversy is only fuelling my hunger for this film even more, however, as it has been hailed as Miyazaki's most personal film and apparently focuses on a healthy dose of adult themes not seen before in an anime that has hit number one on the Japanese box office for the whole of the year. It reminds me of another Studio Ghibli movie set in World War II Japan that featured pretty heavy themes and something about dead bugs...

If I think about it too hard I might start crying again.

Grave of the Fireflies is possibly one of the greatest and most devastating films ever made, and now the best anime director ever (Isao Takahata holds just as strong a place in my heart, mind) has made a new film about the same subject. I think it might kill me if I see this...

Worth it.

I would urge those of you who are a little dubious about watching cartoons (particularly anime) to give this a try, you'll be seeing the work of a master of an industry at his very best. Everyone loves him. As for me, I'll have to watch the trailer at least another 5 times before I can get through the whole thing without breaking the laptop from the resulting efflux of drool and tears of joy:

So, my little band of unholy abominations, what films are you looking forward to this year?

Italy Month: Life Is B-E-A-Utiful

It's November, lads. That means put down your razors and get your bum fluff on in support of Movember, the only high-profile charitable event that gives a damn about men's health. If you don't have the capacity to grow hair out of your top lip, draw a moustache on with permanent marker, or maybe even donate some money to the cause by following the very handy hyperlinks scattered shamelessly throughout this paragraph.

The money will then be converted into even more hyperlinks.

But I'm not a man who would take more than a couple of lines worth of time out of my busy schedule to do something nice, so we'll have enough of that charity guff and get on with the moustachio-related matters of this post. In celebration of the month of all thing face-fuzz related, I have decided to dedicate this month's posts to the undisputed moustache champions of the world: the Italians.

Germany will reclaim their title when they reanimate Bismarck.

As such, I will be looking at three classic Italian movies, each famous in their own right, be that good or bad, and giving my usual well informed and witty critique on proceedings in real time, just like the other time that went so well. To start off, we'll be looking at Roberto Benigni's 1997 war comedy-drama Life Is Beautiful, so let's get going.

From a mere ten minutes of viewing, I can already safely say that the film's protagonist, the spectacular Guido (played by the director himself) is one of the single most charismatically crazy men I have ever seen. This guy bounces around the beautiful Italian countryside like a kid with ADHD and a serious meth-amphetamine problem who just took a bath in strong coffee. Two minutes of screen time and I'm already grinning just looking at him.

The hat does that for the whole film.

The humour comes thick and fast, suiting Guido's character down to the tee, with no scene seeming to last more than a few minutes but always giving us an almost touching insight into the place, the people and Guido himself as we follow his adventures of moving to a new town, getting a job, crashing an Aryan race-promoting school service and, obviously, falling in love. And it's this quiet love story between him and a school teacher, his "princess", that provides some truly "g'awhh, shucks" moments in the first act of the film. I'm far too busy gushing over such a perfect romance to even notice any of the actual filmic styles being used. As far as I can tell, it seems to be in colour and they appear to be using people for all of the talking and moving and such.

Early cinema used a bunch of rats taped together.

But yes, Benigni (who, on a side note, is playing alongside his real life wife-person, making this whole thing all the more adorable) is flawlessly creating a romance which I feel we'll get to see blossom into something even more over the course of the rest of the film. That said, I've already been warned, by my dad no less, to keep tissues handy so I have the faintest of inklings that I'm not going to be quite as thankful for this exceptionally well constructed relationship later as I am right now. But that's then and this is now, so onwards we go.

Back to the plot, which is currently successfully hiding behind a duck/ostrich/goose/bird egg.

Ah, here we go. As we get deeper into the film, the shark lurking under the water finally surfaces. We are, of course, in 1939 Italy; we all know what is about to come, and Guido's charming naivete gives way to a jarring nosedive back to reality during an engagement party when Guido's uncle's horse is vandalised for him being a Jew. Things are about to go very wrong for any poor sod, including Guido himself, who happens to be Jewish. And yet, simply through his charm and wondrous lust for life, we think maybe, just maybe, it might all be OK.

When there's dogs and profiteroles on the same platter, how can things not be OK?

Flash forward a few years thanks to a spectacularly well done time jump involving a greenhouse and some suggested ejaculation and Guido is married with a charming young son (sorry, spoilers I guess, unless you've read any synopsis for this film). We begin to see the extent of the persecution of Guido's people in the country, but he tries his best to hide it from his son, explaining away the signs in shops that deny entry to Jews. Now I think this is the point at which, for the sake of not spoiling any more of the film, I will cease to talk about the plot and focus on the more technical aspects of the film; partially to keep the post well-rounded and fair and also to stop me from weeping inconsolably into the keyboard any more than I already am.

Adding Fairy liquid didn't help.

If there's one thing I would have to congratulate this film on, it would be it's very conservative use of non-diegetic sound (to those who didn't waste their high school life taking media, that means sound not actually found within a scene like a soundtrack, or dramatic BNYAWHHH noises). Most scenes are almost completely devoid of music or sound effects, grounding the film very firmly within reality and forcing the responsibility on Guido's shoulders to shield his son from the horrors occurring around him. When music is heard it perfectly suits the tone of the scene, heightening the impact of the moment but never outstaying its welcome. Also, is it just me or am I making more sense from a critical point of view than I normally do? I should drink copious quantities of gin whilst writing more often.

If it worked for Fagin's singing, it'll work for my writing.

The bright, vibrant colours of the film's first half give way to Iwo Jima levels of dank, bland greys and dirty blue. This is a film that has spent it's entire first half preparing to knock you over and even when you know it's coming you can't help but feel the wave of helplessness crashing down on you. And I think that's what makes Benigni's film so special; even though it follows an already very clearly drawn path that we all know so well (apart from a select few people, of course), your attachment to the utterly fabulous characters forces you to hope that they'll somehow be spared from a force you already know was so unstoppable, so ruthless, that they couldn't possibly have any chance of escape.

Like cheery fat people and McDonald's, but with Jews and Nazis.

Oh, OK, so the whole reviewing whilst watching the film thing kind of went out of the window. It ended a good ten minutes ago whilst I recovered from my veritable cascade of tears. Actually, mind if I take another couple of hours...

Reach here and you'll understand why...

There we go. All good now, minus mild water damage, so I'll finish up. This film is fabulous. Although there's nothing special cinematographically or artistically to be found besides a few choice shots that really excel at capturing their scene in a whole, this is a film that has managed to cram more love and devotion into two hours than anything that I've ever seen before and for that alone it should be congratulated. 

That said, this wouldn't be a fair review if it didn't have a little bit of criticism so I'll finish on a downer for once. My one qualm with this movie is that it tries to fit too much into it's second half; by spending so much time building up to the inevitable turn of events I almost feel like the obviously very heavy conclusion is done a disservice. This is as much a criticism as it is a compliment because the film's ending is so alien from the world you were introduced to that it's as devastating to watch from a completely aesthetic point of view as it is from a personal one, leading to a complete emotional breakdown no matter what. Actually scratch that last bad point from the record and instead I say bravo, Benigni, bravo; you have touched the heart of a person who considers himself untouchable. And for that, I thank you.

On a lighter (and completely inconsequential) note, that girl's mouth doesn't close for an entire scene.

Moustache Rating

The Salvador Dali - 

A moustache that, just by looking at it, lifts you up even though you know that the basic laws of the universe dictate that it should be going downwards. I mean, seriously man, how much 'tache-wax do you use?

Some Guy and Some Guy in a Robot Costume

Ow. Yellow. It burns.

Who here loves South Park? High five! Yay for being another immature man-child who likes to pretend you watch it for the social commentary.

"Hehe, he's all covered in- I mean, consumerism and government and...something."

Although there should be no need for justification in bringing up such comedy genius, my question has a point. Some long-time fans may remember a certain episode featuring Cartman's AWESOM-O 4000 robot, which, to the uninitiated or those who don't click every hyperlink they see, consists of Cartman dressing up in some cardboard boxes and talking in a monotone voice to convince the town moron that he's a robot sent from Japan to be his new best friend.

*insert racist Asian joke here*

If you ever wondered what that concept would be like if it was stretched over the course of an entire film and replaced the town idiot with an elderly shut-in in the early stages of dementia, then your worryingly specific request has been granted by Robot and Frank, a relatively low budget slow-paced, sort-of-sci-fi drama featuring Frank Langella. You might know him better as the one who wasn't the TV presenter in Frost/Nixon or the guy with half a face in the hastily excised haemorrhoid that I've mentioned previously, The Box. God, I hated that movie!

Judging by his performance, I assume his character also only had half a buttock.

So what's Robot and Frank like? For twenty minutes it's a bland tale about a very typical forgetful, grumpy old man getting given a robot aide by his "I-care-about-you-but-I'm-obviously-too-successful-and-busy-to-be-a-good-child" son, Hunter, a gesture which he is unsurprisingly unhappy about, but is slowly brought over to as the two of them strike up a wonderful friendship. Essentially the formula for every elderly companionship movie ever made excluding the only good elderly companionship movie ever made, Harold and Maude, but this time with a robot.

This sub-genre needs more robots.

After the twenty minute mark, the addition of, and consequently also the thoughtful moral dilemma surrounding, Frank realising he can use the robot to assist him in reviving his past career as a cat burglar adds some desperately needed individuality to the otherwise forgettable prologue. They decide to rob the local library which is soon to be turned into a completely computerised system, apparently destroying all of the books once they're scanned because that's definitely what you'd do when trying to preserve literature. One of the books in jeopardy is of course an extremely valuable copy of Don Quixote (why it's just sitting in a cabinet in a small town library we will never know), and Frank takes it upon himself to rescue it; most likely from Susan Sarandon's character, who can't help but constantly play with all of the extremely fragile books.

Never before has a priceless artefact been so needlessly fondled.

Then we spend a little while pottering about watching Frank stake out his next target and occasionally forget stuff so we remember that he's not well. Then some more inconsequential plot developments. To be honest, the whole film feels very...bitty... No one aspect of the plot sticks around for long enough to actually get going. We're watching Frank get to know the robot. Now we're being given some sort of heavy handed parable. Now it looks like he's under the most obvious police surveillance ever.

"I AM INCONSPICUOUS."

Frank himself is, frankly (eh, eh!), dull. The writers have tried to push him away from the old man stereotype by making him an ex burglar but despite that he is still just the old man stereotype. He's forgetful, grumpy, unwelcoming to new things and firmly set in his ways.

The robot is, equally so, just a robot, and in many scenes very obviously not a robot. If we would like to go back to my very first comparison, its plainly obvious in parts of the film that the robot is just a person wearing no more that some painted cardboard boxes. Now, it would be impossible to actually use a real robot for the variety and detail of tasks being performed in the movie and still keep a budget under the billions, but did they have to make it so obvious that the whole suit slipped on like a jumper? The blatant falseness of the robot costume, although not a deal breaker, is certainly jarring in a few scenes and definitely takes away from the illusion of a highly sophisticated piece of machinery. That said, Peter Sarsgaard's voice performance as the robot is probably the most convincing piece of acting in the whole movie.

"I have more talent in one circuit that all of you flesh sacs combined."

The other characters out-with the titular pair would be more at home in Flatland than anything requiring three dimensions. The aforementioned son turns up, dumps the robot and leaves, throwing in a few lines to express exasperation and mild sarcasm. All of the other male characters in the film are equally as sarky in everything they do, not one of them managing a single serious sentence without smirking halfway through like so many art students talking about their views on philosophy after reading the wiki page on Nietzsche. The worst perpetrator of this is the smarmy grease-ball that is the closest thing to a villain that the film manages. He looks like a cross between a weasel and a confused toad and seems to be incapable of basic human interactions, including knowing when not to sound like a sarcastic, self-entitled bastard. Essentially me.

I have nicer glasses.

The daughter, Madison, can only be described as an air-headed liberal who spends half of the movie in [impoverished country] "finding herself", turning up just long enough to shoehorn in the inevitable requirement of approaching the "robots replacing humans" dilemma, and raising the argument that although robots can complete the same tasks, they can't do it with the love and affection of humans. After five minutes she realises it's too hard looking after an old person on your own and uses the robot anyway.

To bury Frank and save them all the bother.

Then there's the near-future setting that our story is based in. It's presented as a kind of pseudo-future with little technical advancements here and there, suggesting the more feasible subtle changes in technology likely over the next few decades instead of the Jetson's-esque levels of jetpack awesomeness more commonly presented in cinema. Although it was a nice thought, the people behind making this future world have still managed to fall down the usual potholes, most notably the idea that our phone calls will be voice-activated and permanently displaying video on the living room TV.

"Dad, why are you masturbating at the cat?"

What if you've lost your voice and can't activate the phone with a "hello", or if you're currently in a less than flattering situation, or very simply not in that room? Where's the microphone; do you have to shout at the screen to be heard? What if the room is noisy, or there are other people there? Or if you want to keep watching TV while you're on the phone? There's so many flaws with this idea that I'm amazed people keep trying to suggest it. I mean what brainless fool would actually- oh.

*slow clap*

I've been whinging for a good few paragraphs and I've just polished of a very smooth bottle of Pinot so why don't we take the opportunity to look at at least one good thing to come out of this film? Due to the unique amalgamation of Frank's deteriorating condition and the introduction of an ethically ambiguous piece of pseudo-sentient machinery, the film's makers have stumbled across a goldmine of a parable in the form of the importance of memory in making a person, or being, human. The fragility of Frank's unstable memory is paralleled with the robot's memory, which can be wiped at any time by its owner, and we realise that his attachment to the robot is built predominantly around it's memories of him and their experiences together. When it comes to the choice of whether to wipe the robot's memory or not Frank is hesitant because, by doing so, is he essentially destroying a being which he has slowly grown to know and helped to nurture over months? It is the only moment in a movie otherwise devoid of plot, character or individuality which makes the entirety of the hour and a half of slightly de-saturated stumbling about almost worthwhile. And I needed a bottle of wine to appreciate it properly.

Take from that what you will.

Overall Ben Equivalence Rating

Watching a Feature-length Honda Advert -

Lots of desaturation, pseudo-advanced technology, robots and a distinct lack of plot.

My Post with Marilyn

Eddie Redmayne, you are the luckiest bastard in the world.

If you don't know who our good friend Eddie is, you may remember him as Lispy McLisperton in the recent big budget adaptation of Les Grumpy French Musicians. Good movie. Might do it at a later date.

"Tho long ath you don't poke any more thun at my thpeech impedimenth."

But I do digreth- I mean digress. Why is Mr. Redmayne so lucky? Because he has the wonderful honour of being the humble love interest of both Emma Watson (that would be Hermione Granger, you heathens) and Michelle Williams, who plays our titular leading lady in My Week with Marilyn, 2011's biopic of the fabulous Marilyn Monroe. You probably haven't heard of her, she isn't well known.

"I gave prepubescent males erections before it was cool."

The sad truth is that the majority of people will have passed over this little gem. It's a BBC Film, which means it's influence will not have extended far from our cold, frothy shores and, although they have come out with some wonderful films in the past, they still bear the stigma of being a TV company funding movies. And that's how stuff like Komodo gets made.

When it comes to biopics I get a little picky. I'm a big fan of overly dramatic Oscar bait, however I can't abide those dreary musician biopics with the plot of guy gets famous, guy ends up on drugs, guy loses everything/commits suicide (apart from a select few with a little more thought to them) or, heaven forbid, the far worse sports alternative. Moneyball was terrible. It wasn't even an underdog story; they had to force the "oh god, we're not going to make it" moment when the opposition gained a couple of points against their already crushing lead. It was like watching a formula one driver stop three feet from the finish line and start shitting himself because he only lapped the next driver six times.

Although it could be because I understand baseball about as well as anyone understands Guyball.

However, I digress once again. Based on the books (a novel way of gathering inspiration) The Prince, the Showgirl and Me and My Week with Marilyn, Marilyn, as it shall now be called for the sake of the word count I've just increased by explaining the reason for calling the movie Marilyn, tells the story of Colin Clark, the author of said books. The film follows his relationship with Marilyn Monroe during the shooting of Laurence Olivier's The Prince and the Showgirl where he acted as her personal escort around London for, oh, I think about six or seven days. Ish. But here's the important bit: it's really good! Hurrah for another movie I like!

Right, on to the reviewing. Some of the main criticisms of this film centre on the rather unusual spacing of characters on screen and the slow, overly romanticised script which swings from light-hearted comedy to retrospectively foreboding tragedy, stating that these aspects create a disjointed, confusing experience. I disagree wholeheartedly. Although it could be seen as the work of an inexperienced director and an incompetent writer trying to cram as many Monroe moments into one plot as possible, I think far more thought has been put into what may initially seem a very bland affair.

Much like the humble digestive biscuit. Seen here sporting a very fashionable, yet traditional, chocolate glaze.

Yes, to a keen eye the characters seem to be performing on an almost two-dimensional plane, and the script does indeed read at times like a piece of wonderfully flamboyant amateur theatre. But, in the context, this works to the movie's advantage. I'm a film buff, however I am also notorious for getting a little swept up in the moment, often disregarding subtle cinematographic effects, but even I became aware of the rather unusual positioning in the film. Although, contrary to many other critiques, I do not think this was unintentional.

Much in a similar vein to the more stage-oriented theatrics of yesteryear that this film is set amongst and, more abstractly, to the flamboyantly melodramatic life that was that of Marilyn Monroe, I like to think that the director's intent was to draw attention to the question that is often asked when inspecting the life of this woman: At what point did the Marilyn on stage stop and the Marilyn off stage begin?

"Duuuuuude..."

It may be water that has been tread so often it's turned into jelly (that's how jellyfish are born, children. Because science!) but it is an interesting question none-the-less, and one that is addressed very well in this film if my theory is to be believed. The flat spacing of the characters lends an uncomfortable atmosphere where it appears that every person is there not to interact naturally with each other, but instead to be seen. This seems to be most extrapolated in the scenes with Olivier (played by Kenneth Branagh) and the rest of the production team on set, possibly making a subtle jibe at the often attention seeking off-screen actions of celebrity actors and directors, both past and present.

"Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude..."

The script, meanwhile, dips and dives through highs and lows which would be more at home in a rather twee romantic comedy and a Lars von Trier movie, respectively; best not to muddle the two up. The weaving plot slots perfectly into the almost bipolar peaks and troughs of elation and depression that Marilyn was prone to experiencing, and further illustrates the instability of her celebrity lifestyle and her fragile psyche creating a rather unsettling confusion where we aren't sure whether we're meant to feel happy or sad in any given scene, let alone how the character is going to feel in the next five minutes. Or whether she's just going to get naked, again.

Of course there's nudity, and of course I was going to screenshot it.

I took the liberty of doing a little of research to review Marilyn which essentially extended to watching The Prince and the Showgirl and a bit of light Googling, so for my hard work I thought I'd treat you to a little snippet of the level of detail the makers of Marilyn went to to (chuffa chuffa too too) emulate the film being used as a backdrop for theirs. It's hardly a patch on Kubrick levels of detail but on watching the original it is nice to see all of the little nods to Olivier's original. I would sincerely recommend having a quick peruse of it, simply to understand the splendid job Michelle Williams did of copying Marilyn's unique personality on and off camera.

2011 on the left, 1957 on the right, and somewhere there's probably a lighthouse.

Williams manages to beautifully capture the essence that made Marilyn so special on camera before immediately transforming in the blink of an eye into the vulnerable, self-doubting child kept hidden behind the lens. Some haunting lines uttered in these moments by Williams, although sadly diluted by other things going on in the scene on one occasion, provide an unnerving insight into "what it must be like to be the most famous woman in the world", a comment uttered during a welcome cameo by Derek Jacobi (think Henry V, or if you're an uncultured worm like me, Underworld).

Over the course of the film, she triumphs in the difficult task of taking a woman so unbelievably larger than life and taming her essence to a sympathetic person lost in the splendour of Hollywood to the point that even she is unsure of who she really is any more. Although other actors are marred by the light script (Judi Dench) or simply don't fit into their roles as snugly, this is all made up for by Williams' performance, and her portrayal of a woman so beloved by all yet so misunderstood is so captivating that I've spent the entire review pretty much talking about nothing else and is certainly a performance to be remembered.

"Thank you, and goodnight."

I must be honest, I have a very soft spot for the little corner of cinema where the movies about movies live. There's something captivating about getting to peek behind the camera even if, technically, you aren't. It's like when you visit their house they're the kind of people who give you free reign of the fridge and have a full set of toiletries laid out on you bed for you. Plus they don't mind when you bring round that woman you met at the pub who smells of blood, gin and cabbage.

They'll even burn the sheets and disinfect your wounds. Such good people.

But do not fear, this review is not biased simply because a character shouts "cut!" a couple of times. They'd have to do that at least, ohh...twelve times?

Overall Ben Equivalence Rating

Buying a Good Quality Fake Watch - 

You know it'll never be as good as the original, but despite the painted-on clock face and misspelled brand name you can't help but love it, because it's the closest you'll ever get to the real thing.

NB. Number of times "Marilyn" was said in this post: 16