Dunkirk

1940, France. 400,000 soldiers are trapped on the beach of Dunkirk awaiting evacuation, the German forces getting closer by the minute. German planes rain terrible destruction from the skies, the shrieking of their engines filling the air with eerie dread. U-Boats punch holes in the vast British destroyers, plunging many soldiers and nurses into watery graves. And, despite the best efforts of the French forces, the German soldiers on land push forward with vicious determination…

It is a nigh-on impossible task to re-create the terror and desperation going through the minds and souls of those soldiers who are just trying to survive and escape (not to mention the RAF men tasked with fending off the Luftwaffe), but writer-director Christopher Nolan has taken on many nigh-on impossible tasks throughout his career thus far. Most of these endeavours have paid off spectacularly; Nolan’s filmography is peppered with astounding achievements, some of which have arguably changed the ways in which film are constructed and marketed. How many superhero films since 2008 have tried to replicate the ‘dark and gritty’ feel of 2008’s The Dark Knight and how many films/trailers have used the signature ‘bwaam’ sound from the score for 2010’s Inception? And I’m going to cut right to the chase, here; Dunkirk not only joins Nolan’s list of monumental film achievements, but it’s also one of the best war films I’ve ever seen. From frame one to the moment Hans Zimmer’s mournful score cues the end credits, Dunkirk is a supremely harrowing accomplishment.

At a lean and decidedly mean 106 minutes, Dunkirk is one of Nolan’s shortest films (over an hour shorter than 2014’s Interstellar), and Nolan makes every minute count. From the very opening, I felt as if I was there alongside the soldiers, and when the first bullet pierced the silence, I felt a jolt of adrenaline and fear. That terror is present for almost the entire running time, overwhelming in its unrelenting verisimilitude.

The eerily visceral sound design is instrumental in the terror for both the audience and the men trying to escape; the banshee-like howl of the enemy planes as they slowly get closer and louder is almost numbing in the encroaching dread. For the men on the ground, the sound of those planes is death; all that matters is getting out of the way in time before the bombs drop. For the limited Royal Air Force fighters as embodied by Farrier (an electric Tom Hardy) and Collins (the unflappably likable Jack Lowden), it’s an unforgiving challenge of out-manoeuvring and out-witting their German counterparts in the skies above the sea. The aerial sequences are nothing less than staggering; the ways in which cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema captures the various, swooping angles of these planes as they duel across the breath-takingly vast panorama leaves the mind in utter disbelief, and the suspense is nerve-shredding. The use of real WW2-era vehicles (both air and sea, and including some used in the actual Dunkirk evacuations) only makes it that much easier to become mentally and physically entrenched in the situation, and again the impact of the bullets being fired and colliding against both the Allied and German aircraft comes with a resounding and merciless force.

Soldiers Tommy (Fionn Whitehead), Gibson (Aneurin Bernard) and Alex (Harry Styles) embody the men urgently trying to get off the beach. From the almost-nauseating apprehension of the opening scene, we immediately understand their drive to get out by any means necessary, and that investment is there throughout the run-time. We don’t know much about these characters, but I think that any way of giving these characters ‘moments’, like sitting down and talking or showing their worried families at home, would puncture the increasingly wrought bubble of unease that Nolan has so carefully and expertly crafted here. These are men fleeing to survive at any cost, and you feel that through Nolan’s faultless story-telling, the remarkably vital technical values and the focussed potency of the actors. Out of those on land, Styles is a stand-out, shedding his pop-star persona and essaying this role with skilled nuance. Whitehead and Bernard are both strong, while Kenneth Branagh and James D’Arcy also bring stressed poise and presence to their roles as Commander Bolton and Colonel Winant respectively, the highest-ranking men on the beach trying to get as many of their soldiers off the beach as possible. On the sea, Mr. Dawson (Mark Rylance), his son Peter (Tom Glynn-Carney) and their hand George (Barry Keoghan) venture towards the battle to help as many soldiers as possible. Rylance delivers perhaps the film’s most powerful performance as a man so motivated by his convictions that he’s willing to do anything to extricate all the men he can. Glynn-Carney is solid, while Barry Keoghan delivers a heartfelt portrayal which lends the film a touching poignancy. Cillian Murphy also does typically excellent work as a ‘shivering soldier’ the boat crew rescue on their way to Dunkirk, showing the raw distress of someone suffering from the effects of war.

The way in which Nolan presents these story threads is unconventional for a war film, but it works for several reasons. The first is that it adds a decisively Nolan-esque stamp to a genre which has been explored multiple times; the theme of time is one which plays a significant part in most of Nolan’s filmography, and that’s the case here once again. The second is that it amplifies the confusion of the soldiers fighting for survival and the fortitude of those coming to their aid, giving each of the individual strands perspective and purpose; the ticking clock prevalent in the critically intoxicating score from Zimmer (with contributions from both Lorne Balfe and Benjamin Wallfisch) confronts the theme of mortality with immeasurable urgency. Secondly, through Lee Smith’s extraordinary editing, the ways in which these individual narratives are welded together only enhances the tautness of the story-telling, lending each vista an interweaving power which serves to magnify the epic scope whilst giving the intimate moments even more weight.

From van Hoytema’s earthy yet gorgeous lensing to the piercingly compelling sound design, from the snare-drum tight editing to the flawless performances across the board, Dunkirk stuns with how meticulously it plunges the viewer into this terrifying part of history. I haven’t even mentioned the supremely pain-staking production design by Nathan Crowley or the exemplary costume design by Jeffrey Kurland, which add to the realism and therefore anxious fervour. The thousands of real-life extras and the use of practical effects wherever possible only further implement the frightening punch of the situation; I’ve discussed the breath-taking aerial battles, but the assaults on the sea are just as hair-raising. Seeing real ships being sunk with real extras clambering in and around them is incredible, with the lack of evident CGI only enhancing the anguish of those soldiers. And again, the camera angles are astonishing as we follow men scrambling across the shifting surfaces and clinging to whatever they can.  

With Dunkirk, Nolan has delivered a consummately masterful piece of cinematic audacity. Few war films have immersed the audience into the fearfulness of conflict with the same exactitude, and Nolan’s commitment to detail and using as little CGI as possible aids immensely. As has been highlighted in much of the advertisements, Nolan chose to shoot this film with IMAX cameras. And, as far as formats go, I couldn’t recommend seeing Dunkirk in IMAX highly enough. The film is designed to be seen on the biggest possible screen with the best possible sound system. The raptness of the experience is stunning, augmenting every resounding crack of a bullet and every striking image with greater visual and aural depth. Nolan’s verve as a director makes it worth paying the extra money for the IMAX experience. And that’s the best way to describe Dunkirk; an experience, one of innate force and impact. Nolan, his cast and crew pay stalwart tribute to the survivors, the fallen and heroes of the event, and Dunkirk is nothing less than an ascendant triumph.

Final Rating: 5 out of 5  

War for the Planet of the Apes

As Caesar solemnly proclaimed at the end of Dawn, ‘war has already begun’. Now the pay-off to that portent of doom has arrived in War for the Planet of the Apes.

We pick up two years after the conclusion of Dawn. Caesar (portrayed once again through motion-capture performance by Andy Serkis) and his colony of apes have been fighting to survive the violent assaults of the human forces led by the merciless Colonel McCullough (Woody Harrelson). After a vicious skirmish, Caesar decides to end the fight once and for all. As he and his comrades Maurice (Karin Konoval), Luca (Michael Adamthwaite) and Rocket (Terry Notary) approach their goal, Caesar must contemplate the best way to protect his kind whilst also trying not to succumb to the darkness brewing within…

If you were to believe the marketing for War for the Planet of the Apes, you might go into the cinema expecting an epic war film. Well, for the first and last 15 minutes, that’s exactly what you get. Director/co-writer Matt Reeves and his technical crew craft some masterful, edge-of-the-seat battles which showcase the requisite fire-power for a summer blockbuster whilst also remaining coherently choreographed and never losing sight of the high stakes at hand. However, the rest of the film is an entirely different beast. War for the Planet of the Apes is a bleak, beautiful and gut-wrenching character study which uses its near-peerless technological poise to tell a thematically riveting and intensely moving tale.

It also doesn’t hurt that, in his third go-round in the role of Caesar, Andy Serkis deserves not only one of the most powerful performances of the year thus far, but one of the most accomplished turns of his career thus far. That’s not to say that the other cast members don’t deserve praise. Harrelson’s unrepentantly intense work makes the Colonel a chillingly striking foe, a man who would appear downright demonic if not for his twistedly understandable motivations. Notary and Adamthwaite are both superb as Caesar’s comrades, while Konoval is once again magnetically lovable and wise as Maurice. Ty Olssen delivers noteworthy work as Red, a gorilla who has an intriguing role in the human-ape conflict. New to the series, Amiah Miller is wonderfully sweet as a human child the apes find on their journey and Steve Zahn is a charming, quirky delight as ‘Bad Ape’, a lonely ape discovered by the group. The introduction of Miller’s character and ‘Bad Ape’ brings much-needed warmth and humour to a film which has plenty of darkness brewing in its heart, much like Caesar. And, circling back to Serkis, he flat-out owns this film. This prequel/reboot trilogy is ultimately Caesar’s story, and Serkis has been spectacular from the very beginning. However, he raises the bar here yet again for motion-capture performance. There are scenes where Serkis’ emotional power had me on the verge of tears. We have never seen the character this conflicted, and we feel all of the emotions through Serkis’ incredible expressiveness and raw reactions. The physicality brought to the roles by the motion-capture actors is exceptional, and Serkis brings a world-weary strength and determination to Caesar which marks him as a great leader with an edge. Serkis’ portrayal here is nothing short of faultless, staggeringly powerful to the point where he and the character meld together. Regardless of whether he receives the much-deserved award consideration, Serkis still delivers some of the best work that any actor is likely to give this year.

As much as the actors deserve a multitude of superlatives, the same should be said of the sensational animators and VFX artists who make these apes look so damn real. It’s the smaller details which impress the most, from the prominent blood vessel in an eye or the water-drenched fur of one ape glistening in the moonlight. The various individuals working on the apes have done something truly game-changing here. These don’t feel like constructs; they feel present in a way which only a few other CGI characters ever have, which is critical for the film in allowing the audience to successfully connect with them on an emotional level. As far as VFX go, it also doesn’t hurt that the digital implementations made to Michael Seresin’s breath-taking cinematography all feel rich and organic in adding further depth to the post-apocalyptic world on display.

Director Matt Reeves and his co-writer Mark Bomback aren’t afraid to explore some disturbing ideas here, and as such this is easily the grimmest entry in a trilogy which was never that light-hearted to begin with. The film pushes its rating (12A in the UK, PG-13 in the US) to the limit, but in doing so, it makes the tension more palpable and the threat more vicious. Reeves’ direction is confident and patient enough to allow the film’s themes to breathe and percolate throughout, while maintaining a purposeful pace (courtesy of unhurried yet constantly attentive editing from William Hoy and Stan Halfas) which never lets the menace dissipate. What’s more, Reeves proves that he knows how to capture some breath-taking imagery. Whether in a thunderous and fire-ridden ambush or a peaceful moment in the snow under a tree with blooming flowers, Reeves and Seresin make this a film of profound visual power and texture. Reeves and Bomback also tell a captivating story, one which works to great effect as both a final chapter in a trilogy and as its own tale. While there are ties back to Rise of the Planet of the Apes and over-arching themes and scenery (not to mention forged emotional connections from prior films which become pivotal in how the characters and events evolve here), the story here is clearly laid out in the opening act before progressing in ways which are not always expected and yet constantly enthralling. What’s more, War ties into the original 1968 Planet of the Apes beautifully with many clever nods, with one particular move being downright inspired.

Guided by an elegantly bittersweet and haunting score from Michael Giacchino which might rank amongst the finest of his work, War for the Planet of the Apes delivers an unapologetically intimate finale to the trilogy. I’ve read many online complaints that, for a film with ‘war’ in the title, there really isn’t much war. Well, to counter that, I’d say that not all war is gun-fire and flying fists. Wars can be both physical and psychological, taking the fight to the enemy by force or by challenging the enemy with your beliefs in simple yet charged conversation. Wars can be both external and internal, looking for someone to battle whilst becoming aware of the monster inside that you might have to confront with just as much ferocity. One of War’s greatest achievements is in exploring the depravity which is borne from a desperate conflict, a disconnected drive for victory which can corrupt your moral compass even as you tell yourself that your worst actions support your best hopes. To find this level of committed thoughtfulness in a summer blockbuster is a rarity, and War for the Planet of the Apes staggers with its unrelenting courage and depth. There are only a few moments where the thought-process can be found lacking, some smaller moments where things seem to fall into place too easily or conveniently. But I found those moments to be rare and, on top of that, there are two things I contemplate as both a critic and a film-goer; can I find a viable explanation for events and does my emotional investment allow me to overlook those where I can’t? Given how much intense dread I felt while watching those ‘too-easy’ moments, fearing that they could just as easily become ‘too-bad’ scenarios, I’m willing to accept them as very minor missteps. 

War for the Planet of the Apes is a sensational conclusion to one of the most surprisingly excellent trilogies in recent memory, a film which isn’t afraid to choose a quiet character moment over a loud action set-piece. Sure, those are present and they’re handled terrifically, but as the final scene plays out with richly poignant closure, you realise that the action has always been but a piece of what makes this trilogy so powerful. Everyone involved from Reeves to every single crew member (as well as Rise director Rupert Wyatt, who started this trilogy on a strong note) deserves immense credit, but what really makes this trilogy stick is the characters, both through the stunningly organic visual effects and through the unerringly compelling performances. And at the head of the pack is both Serkis and Caesar, a combination of performance and character which will go down as one of the most magnificently captivating accomplishments in film for quite some time. For that alone, the film earns high praise. For that and everything else surrounding it, I feel that War for the Planet of the Apes earns my highest praise and recommendation.  

Final Rating: 5 out of 5

Baby Driver

There’s a certain buzz you have after watching a great film, an electric feeling of having seen something so vibrant and indelible that it feels like something you’ll cherish for a long time and which makes many other films pale in comparison. I was awash in that feeling after walking out of Edgar Wright’s latest film, Baby Driver.

Baby (Ansel Elgort) is a getaway driver working for crime boss Doc (Kevin Spacey). While Doc continually switches his teams of bank robbers including criminals like Darlin’ (Elza Gonzalez), Buddy (Jon Hamm) and Griff (Jon Bernthal), Baby is so good at driving that Doc has kept him on for every job. An accident from Baby’s past left him suffering from tinnitus, meaning that he almost constantly plays music to drown out the painful “hum in the drum”; in, fact, he’s so reliant on music that he times both his getaway driving and his normal life to the songs he’s listening to. His life changes significantly when he meets Deborah (Lily James), a girl with just as great a love for music. Baby and Deborah immediately hit it off, but any hopes of a romantic future are put in peril by Baby’s continuing involvement with Doc and a new threat in Bats (Jamie Foxx), a psychopathic criminal who takes instant issue with Baby.

Baby Driver is a film which strives on its musical soundtrack, with many sequences often edited to fit in with the songs being played. Happily, every song is chosen perfectly; from the very beginning, where The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion’s Bellbottoms both elevates the wonderful charm and exhilaration of proceedings, the musical selections feel inspired and wildly cool. Perhaps the most ingenious use of a song here is that of Barry White’s Never, Never Gonna Give You Up; the introduction of the song, and the scene in which it is played, gives the song a completely unexpected context which really works for the events on display. As you can tell from the pictured ticket, it’s been a while since I saw Baby Driver, but I purchased the soundtrack as soon as I could after the showing and I’ve been listening to it almost non-stop ever since.

While there are some dialogue scenes where the music takes a back-seat, it’s always there riding shotgun during the action sequences. These action sequences are some of the most edge-of-the-seat affairs to have graced the screen this year. Aided by outstanding practical stunts (there appeared to be very little CGI used, and if any was used, I didn’t notice it for a second) and the fluid verve of Bill Pope’s cinematography, every action set-piece is a marvel to behold. The contents of the action is nothing we haven’t seen before, but as presented both visually and aurally, it’s a dazzling musical blast of creative camerawork and magnificent, rat-a-tat editing courtesy of Jonathan Amos and Paul Machliss. For those looking for a thrill-ride, the action here is stellar and puts many other films with larger budgets to shame.

As well as the skill invested in every beat, the action in Baby Driver simply wouldn’t be as enthralling without the great characters that are involved. As Baby, Ansel Elgort makes a compelling bid for film stardom. Firstly, the guy has the ‘look’; from his first scene, he has undeniable screen presence. But, more so than that, he’s able to suggest so much without saying anything. Baby can just sit idly, and yet you get the feeling he’s always assessing and contemplating his surroundings, whether it be the music or the criminals he often accompanies. Elgort never plays it too cool for school, though; there’s always a warmth and effortless likeability to him that makes Baby a character you can easily root for, not to mention a vulnerability which adds extra humanity and intrigue. Baby’s romance with Deborah is the heart of the film, and the chemistry between Elgort and James simply lights up the screen. James is a beautiful screen presence in every way possible; her smile is heart-melting, and she makes Deborah such a gorgeously magnetic presence that it’s no surprise Baby falls for her. The conversations between the two show a longing for love and a life far away, and I found that connection to be portrayed beautifully. The supporting cast here is nothing short of superb. Kevin Spacey, one of my favourite actors, sinks his teeth into the role of Doc with clear relish. This is the kind of role Spacey aces, one laced with a wicked sense of humour and a no-nonsense menace, and ace it Spacey does. What’s more, the relationship between Baby and Doc has a surprising undercurrent which only lends their interactions more dimension and human interest. As criminal couple Buddy and Darling, Jon Hamm and Elza Gonzalez are both terrific. While I haven’t seen much for Gonzalez before, it’s safe to say that I’m excited to see what she does next after her work here. Darling is a character who knows how to use her sultriness to her advantage, and Gonzalez excellently plays that ‘femme fatale’ element of the character. But Gonzalez also adds shades of caring and grit which make her so much more than eye candy. Hamm likewise lends layers to Buddy which make him much more than he initially appears. While Hamm can do charismatic in his sleep, he also portrays Buddy as someone who has reserves of both compassion and rage. When those burst to the surface, Hamm delivers a gleefully against-type turn which is electrifying to watch. Against-type could also apply to Jamie Foxx; while Foxx’s natural charm is present here, he delivers it in such slithery style that there’s almost uncomfortable tension every time Bats is present. This character is easily one of the nastiest Foxx has ever portrayed, and he revels in the edgy ruthlessness. You’re never sure how events will play out when Bats is involved, and Foxx’s unsettling presence personifies that uneasiness with great assurance. The unexpected depth and uncertainty in the relationships between characters is one of Baby Driver’s biggest strengths, and only helps to make the narrative more invigorating. Jon Bernthal, CJ Jones, Lanny Joon, Paul Williams and Flea of Red Hot Chilli Peppers fame all do strong work in smaller roles, making memorable impressions in often limited screen time.  

The main person to thank for such a compelling narrative is writer-director Edgar Wright. Out of his previous cinematic writer-director credits (2004’s Shaun of the Dead, 2007’s Hot Fuzz, 2010’s Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World and 2013’s The World’s End), I’ve loved them all without fail. However, Baby Driver may be my new favourite film of his. Wright brings his usual vitality and keen wit for dialogue (every character, even the minor ones, gets smart, hilarious and magnetically entertaining dialogue), but he feels like he’s honed his skills more as a director. That’s not just true for the incredible action, but also for the sheer style on display here. The dynamic colours, the great camera work, the command of the musical soundtrack… Every breath-taking moment of Baby Driver feels like an escalation of Wright’s craft. Baby Driver feels fittingly like a mix-tape of different genres without any of them taking away from the impact of the others. Comedy, action, thriller, musical, romance… The film blends all genres near-faultlessly to create a sensation all its own. Wright’s writing and direction are effortless; proceedings often have a Tarantino-esque style and tension, but there’s no denying that this is Wright’s voice shining through every step of the way. No writer-director working today possesses the same energetic panache as Wright, and I can’t wait to see what he does next.

Simply put, Baby Driver is a cinematic thrill-ride. While there are some fantastical elements at play here, the film still feels grounded enough that the stakes are intensely real. The Atlanta location and practical stunts add further authenticity to events. The magnificently fleet-footed cinematography and editing result in the film being paced to perfection; every scene feels like it’s building to something, and when the frantic final third kicks into high gear, all that build-up is paid off beautifully. Every cast member delivers top-notch work which is in perfect step with the material. Orchestrating every crunching car swerve and every spot-on musical choice with a pronounced mastery, Edgar Wright has cemented his place as one of the stand-out film-makers of his generation. At the heart of the film is the hopeful, longing connection between Baby and Deborah, two people looking for an escape from the lives they’re trapped in. A love letter to the excitement of unadulterated cinema, Baby Driver is a shining gem which will likely be remembered and loved for years to come.

Final Rating: 5 out of 5

  

    

       

 

 

 

Rise of the Planet of the Apes

Flash back to 2011. Having been treated to arguably one of the biggest cinematic summers in recent memory (X-Men: First Class, Captain America: The First Avenger, Thor, Kung Fu Panda 2, Super 8, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2), I went to a special early screening for Rise of the Planet of the Apes. The excitement was palpable; the cinema was packed and we were each given free posters for the film. Thankfully, the film didn’t fail to deliver on that excitement and promise.

Will Rodman (James Franco) has stumbled upon a potential cure for Alzheimer’s. After testing the cure on apes, the apes show vastly increased intelligence. Following an incident at his lab, Will and his father Charles (John Lithgow) become the guardians of a baby ape, Caesar (portrayed through motion-capture work by Andy Serkis). As he grows, Caesar shows great intellect and understanding; unfortunately, other humans aside from Will, Charles and Will’s girlfriend Caroline (Freida Pinto) aren’t so understanding. Following a confrontation where Caesar protects Charles, Caesar is locked away in an animal shelter with other, less educated apes and abused by sadistic worker Dodge (Tom Felton). Seeing the conditions which his kind endure and growing to understand their current place in the world, Caesar grows bitterly angry and decides that enough is enough…

Let’s start by talking about the most praised aspect of this reboot series; the visual effects and motion-capture work. In short, what everyone involved achieved in these areas is outstanding. The apes all feel like real-breathing creatures with a huge range of expressions and a multitude of subtle gestures which feel them less like avatars created on a computer and more like individuals with rich emotional history. While the visual effects team must be commended for their work here, a huge piece of the credit has to go to the motion-capture actors. Karin Konoval, Christopher Gordon (Koba), Richard Ridings (Buck), Terry Notary (Buck) and all the other motion-capture actors are outstanding (Konoval is a delight as Caesar’s orangutan friend Maurice). These actors all commit to their craft and are never anything less than convincing. However, the man (and ape) of the hour is Andy Serkis as Caesar. Serkis is one of the original pioneers of motion-capture work in film after his exceptional work as Gollum in The Lord of the Rings trilogy, and his performance here may be even more impressive. Serkis portrays all of Caesar’s internal struggles flawlessly through his motions and sounds; nary a word is spoken, and yet you feel the turmoil, confusion and rage that Caesar feels. Caesar himself is already a compelling figure who is easy to relate to and become attached to, but Serkis’ portrayal gives the character so much depth and presence. The character’s arc, coupled with the electrifying work from Serkis, makes Caesar a sensational lead who I can’t help but cheer on.

One of the biggest complaints I hear about Rise is that the human characters pale in comparison to the apes, and for the most part, I’d have to agree with that. It doesn’t help that the actors are often either saddled with severely one-dimensional roles or given very little to do. Tom Felton sneers like he’s in a pantomime as chief human antagonist Dodge; there’s no redeeming qualities for this individual, and try as Felton might, the character seems like he wandered out of a cartoon; it also doesn’t help that Felton clearly struggles with his American accent. Playing Dodge’s father John, Brian Cox aces the accent and gives a solid turn, but the character still feels under-written. There’s an emotional moment for the character in the last act which Cox sells, but it feels too rushed. David Oyelowo, a usually terrific actor, is nothing more than the stereotypical evil businessman as Will’s over-seer Jacobs (there’s even a point where he exclaims aloud “I make money!”) Freida Pinto, who’s recently proven herself to be a captivating screen presence on TV’s Guerilla, is a likeable presence, but Caroline often feels like more of a moral argument than an actual character. She’s just there to point out where things can go wrong; there’s not much else to her, apart from that, making her the archetypal ‘concerned girlfriend’. As Will’s lab partner Franklin, Tyler Labine does good work. Outside of Will, Charles and Caroline, Franklin is the only other human in the film who treats the apes with something approaching love and respect. He’s also apparently an intelligent character, which is why it’s such a shame to watch what the film does with his character. I understand that the screen-writers needed to find a way to move the plot forward, but couldn’t they have found a way which didn’t have a supposedly smart individual suddenly and incomprehensibly act like an utter imbecile? On a final negative note regarding the human characters, Will’s neighbour Douglas (David Hewlett) is actually funny in how much of a pain he is. Whenever we see him, he’s in a foul and unpleasant mood. What’s more, his responses to everything are over-the-top; there’s a critical moment in the film where Douglas takes offence at someone knocking on his neighbour’s door. Not his door, but his neighbour’s door on a detached house. That’s a small detail, but it shows how much the film occasionally tries too hard to make some of these human characters antagonistic. As a result, they can come across as obvious, dimensionless constructs.

Now let’s move on to who I think are the two really good human performances and characters here; James Franco as Will and John Lithgow as Will’s father Charles. Franco plays the role in decidedly understated fashion, which only makes Will seem more human. At first, Will is only interested in the medical ramifications of Caesar’s condition and how it can help human suffering from crippling mental diseases. But, as time goes on and Will grows more attached to Caesar, Franco sells that attachment beautifully. However, Franco and Serkis never forget the undercurrent of tragedy in that, while Will cares for Caesar, he can’t seem to understand that Caesar is his equal. There is an arrogance to Will not entirely dissimilar to a ‘mad scientist’ archetype, and Franco plays it with just enough flawed humanity to avoid slipping into caricature. Better still is John Lithgow as Charles Rodman. Suffering from Alzheimer’s, Charles is the reason Will is so determined to make the cure work, and the painfully heartfelt relationship between father and son is played to palpably moving results by both Franco and Lithgow. Lithgow never overplays the character’s condition, portraying a man struggling to cling to his intelligence in a way that rings harrowingly true. The interplay between Franco, Lithgow and Serkis is truly magnificent, and it forms a large part of the film’s tragic heart.

Arguably one of the biggest things Rise has going for it is the pacing. From its first frame, this film MOVES. At a run-time of 105 minutes, this is a relatively short summer blockbuster, and while there is hardly any action until the third act, the drama and characters (particularly Caesar) create a thoroughly ensnaring narrative which moves like lightning. The major characters are developed to the point where we care about their fates and the underlying sense of tension builds masterfully until it breaks loose (literally and figuratively) in the final act. Not only is each act brilliantly constructed and clear (there are defining moments which are indicative of an act ending and/or beginning without being overly obvious), but everything which occurs in the latter half of the film is set up wonderfully in the first half of the film. This is a very tight film with few loose threads, outside of some questionable character motivation and other minor mis-steps.

Editors Conrad Buff and Mark Goldblatt keeps the story racing by with just enough time given to allow events to possess the punch they deserve (for the most part – like I said earlier, there are moments where some actors aren’t given the chance to emote as much as possible), but he and director Rupert Wyatt understand that build-up is key. Wyatt must be a fan of the ‘prison break’ sub-genre; not only was 2008’s The Escapist, his film prior to this, a film of that ilk, but from the second act onwards, Rise clearly owes a debt to prison-break dramas. As great as Wyatt’s direction of the film’s first act is, it’s from Caesar’s imprisonment onwards that he really starts to show off his skill. Not only is it great fun to watch traditional prison film tropes being acted out by apes in a way which feels very naturalistic, but it’s also amazing to see the cogs in the machine that is Caesar’s plan slowly and surely come together for terrific effect. And what is the sensational third act, where Caesar leads his fellow apes in a rush for freedom, but one of the most epic jail break sequences ever? It’s safe to say that the building suspense of the first two acts is delivered on in spades come that spectacular finale. Everyone involved, from Wyatt and the editors to the actors, from the visual effects crew to cinematographer Andrew Lesnie, is clearly throwing their all into that conclusion and it makes for an incredible ride, full of bruising strength and wicked wit.

Wyatt’s direction is perfect for the material. It’s intelligent and emotional, tapping into the heart of the characters and story without usually feeling the need to explain too much; often, a simple visual or a shot of a character reacting is enough to inform us of changes taking place in the film. The script, written by Rick Jaffa and Amanda Silver, must also get some credit here; while there are issues with how some of the other characters behave and talk occasionally, the characters normally interact and talk in a way that feels natural to both the situation at hand and who they are as individuals.   

Bolstered by Lesnie’s stunningly gorgeous cinematography and Patrick Doyle’s emotionally rich and compelling score, Rise thrives on its unexpected soul and vitality. If there was any other issue apart from the lacking or simplified characterisations for the supporting cast, it would be that the references to the franchise’s history are often ham-fisted and out-of-place. Sure, some work, but they mostly feel too slavish and have a negative impact on the film. Most egregious of all is a famous quote from the original 1968 Planet of the Apes which inspired a groan from me when I first saw it in cinemas; this was a mistake which the ill-advised 2001 remake made, so to see it being repeated here wasn’t very encouraging. However, the moment right after that is an absolute stunner; I can still recall the entire cinema going into awestruck silence. The real power in Rise is in the story of Caesar, and that moment is the culmination of it all. That moment epitomised everything so pleasantly surprising about Rise of the Planet of the Apes, and why it proved to be one of the most unexpected resurrections of a franchise in recent memory.

Final Rating: 4 out of 5