johnke.me
Somehow I got it into my head that this was going to be a romp in the vein of Brewster McCloud ‐ a film I appreciated more than liked ‐ but this film has so much more wit, so much more heart. Not the words I was expecting to be using to describe such a toxic story. Matthau and May are perfect foils for each other. Matthau’s hangdog face and dour demeanor against May’s innocent ditziness and I could watch this potent combination for hours.
Wonderful.
Tony Scott could take even the messiest script and make it extremely watchable. In Days of Thunder, the flop sweat is almost literally oozing off the screen, and the editing is nothing short of chaotic but Tony Scott somehow pulls it all together. Nowhere near as entertaining as Top Gun but, then again, few things are.
Disjointed, baggy and I’m not sure it actually has anything new to say. Barely anything more than just a collection of stock military vignettes. Emotional states fluctuate from scene to scene, making the whole film feel incredible schizophrenic which on the one hand is possibly intentional but on the other hand, has the effect of making it really difficult to engage with the characters or the story.
All this being said, it’s interesting to see how much this film almost single-handedly influenced the aesthetics of war movies and video games for at least a decade.
I can’t overemphasise what a big deal this film was in my family when I was growing up. I was too young to get most of the jokes (loved the pratfalls though!), but it was nearly constantly on in the background every weekend, embedding itself in my DNA through osmosis. So watching it now, this film I haven’t thought about in 30 years, is a really strange experience. All of the lines and even the delivery of the lines are bubbling up from my subconscious ahead of time. I’m finally old enough to get the jokes and there are some top-class bangers, but the film never once made me laugh because I knew the lines by rote. Very strange!
Even stranger was the wave of nostalgia that washed over me while watching this was unreal. It was like finding my childhood comfort blanket again. The feeling of safety and warmth. That was really unexpected from a film with a close-up of a half-naked Swedish woman dancing in an office. Wild stuff.
The wheels have come fully off the bus here. It doesn’t feel so much like Fuqua and Washington have forgotten what brings people to an Equalizer film, but more that they just aren’t interested in making that film any more. There are still occasional flashes of greatness here, like the brief first-person perspective of the assult whose aftermath we’re introduced to at the beginning, but for the most part this is more The Talented Mr McCall than badass action film.
Massively disappointing.
It all kind of falls apart in the last half hour, but I’m still a total sucker for Parker’s unfussy style.
Also, maybe watching this in 2025 wasn’t the best move? Can’t help but feel like maybe we’re not as far from this as we think.
We always get asked “why don’t you ever come to play in XYZ”, and, though flattered, I personally also feel frustrated that there’s a lack of understanding as to the financial restrictions touring bands often face.
Los Campesinos! lay out the economics of what it cost them to put on their recent show in Dublin and it’s pretty eye-opening stuff.
I’ve seen a lot of people complain that Flow felt like an extended video game cutscene. And it’s true that the film is in conversation with videogames. Specifically the work of Fumito Ueda, whose sparse, barren worlds hint at but don’t explain their history which allows you to project your own emotions and interpretations onto the story.
If you’re going to copy anyone, copy the master, right? Flow does all this along with the added difficulty of telling a complex story through the believable gestures and motions of a range of animals. This is every bit as magical as the hype would have you believe. A remarkable achievement.
One of the most disappointing git diffs I’ve ever seen.
I thought maybe I’d enjoy Martin McDonagh’s schtick a bit more when he wasn’t wrapping it in some diddley-eye patronising Irish bullshit. I guess not!
Sam Rockwell was terrific, though.