Search
Search results
LeftSideCut (3778 KP) rated The Lie (2020) in Movies
Nov 18, 2020
To sum up The Lie in one word - frustrating.
This recent thriller from Blumhouse, based on 2015 German film Wir Monster, has a lot of good ingredients, and some decent performances but there's just so much that bogs it down.
First off, the lead cast here are great. Peter Sarsgaard and Mireille Enos in particular are heart wrenchingly believable as two parents desperately trying to protect their teen daughter (Joey King) who has confessed to impulsively murdering one of her friends. It's a slow burn of a plot, and Sarsgaard and Enos do a hell of a lot to make it watchable.
Joey King's character is stupidly unlikable however. I got the feeling that we as the audience were supposed to be on her side, hoping that she wouldn't get caught - like the filmmakers we're going for a Psycho vibe or something, but her character is so obnoxious and spoilt, that all I wanted was for her to go to prison. It's a big hiccup considering the narrative centres around her so severely.
Then there's the twist - no spoilers here, but fuck me, it's stupid. All good thrillers need a good twist to round things off, but the one we're subjected to here requires a huge suspension of disbelief on the viewers part. It asks too much, and ruins what is otherwise a fairly tense and minimalist thriller.
The snowy setting adds some beauty to the films aesthetic, but it's not enough to detract from everything that makes The Lie more unenjoyable than it should be.
This recent thriller from Blumhouse, based on 2015 German film Wir Monster, has a lot of good ingredients, and some decent performances but there's just so much that bogs it down.
First off, the lead cast here are great. Peter Sarsgaard and Mireille Enos in particular are heart wrenchingly believable as two parents desperately trying to protect their teen daughter (Joey King) who has confessed to impulsively murdering one of her friends. It's a slow burn of a plot, and Sarsgaard and Enos do a hell of a lot to make it watchable.
Joey King's character is stupidly unlikable however. I got the feeling that we as the audience were supposed to be on her side, hoping that she wouldn't get caught - like the filmmakers we're going for a Psycho vibe or something, but her character is so obnoxious and spoilt, that all I wanted was for her to go to prison. It's a big hiccup considering the narrative centres around her so severely.
Then there's the twist - no spoilers here, but fuck me, it's stupid. All good thrillers need a good twist to round things off, but the one we're subjected to here requires a huge suspension of disbelief on the viewers part. It asks too much, and ruins what is otherwise a fairly tense and minimalist thriller.
The snowy setting adds some beauty to the films aesthetic, but it's not enough to detract from everything that makes The Lie more unenjoyable than it should be.
Hazel (1853 KP) rated The Wanderers in Books
Dec 17, 2018
<i>I received this book for free through Goodreads First Reads.
“As they look to the stars, what are they missing back home?” </i>In a handful of year’s time, it can be presumed that dreams of humans on Mars will become closer to a reality. In Meg Howey’s <i>The Wanderers</i>, the time has come to select the potential candidates to participate in the first crewed mission to the Red Planet. Yet, as the astronauts prepare to walk among the stars, their families are left to consider a life without them.
The story is told through the perspectives of seven characters. Perhaps the most important are the three astronauts: Helen, Sergei and Yoshi, who are enclosed in a tiny mock-spacecraft, as they practice the hypothetical challenges and experiences they may encounter on a real trip to Mars. The remaining chapters are shared out amongst family members: Mireille, Helen’s adult daughter; Dmitri, Sergei’s fifteen-year old son; and Madoka, Yoshi’s wife – the final character being Luke, a psychiatrist tasked with observing the mental state of the astronauts throughout the experiment.
Interestingly, those being left behind are less concerned about their parent or spouse, choosing to focus on their own, everyday life, problems. Left to their own devices, they worry about their careers, their sexuality and the ways in which others perceive them. All, presumably as a result of the lack of contact with their significant family member, have become capable of surviving independently, however do not appear to realize how lonely they are.
The astronauts, on the other hand, are preoccupied with thoughts of space, concentrating so hard on the mission ahead of them that they fail to think of anything else. However, after months of only having each other for company, their thoughts begin to drift in the direction of home, their childhood, worries about their family, guilt – all notions that are fairly alien to the career driven characters.
Whilst it is interesting to witness the character developments, there is not a significant storyline. The book only encompasses the training period for the prospective space mission, and does not appear to have a substantial conclusion. Whether the astronauts eventually make it to Mars, and whether their consciences encourage them to behave differently towards their families, remains unknown.
<i>The Wanderers</i> has the essence of a work of fiction that English Literature students or professors would enjoy pulling apart, examining the language and literary techniques as they seek the understanding of the various emotions portrayed. Unfortunately, the majority will not have chosen to read this book for this precise purpose, expecting a science fiction novel full of excitement and interesting plot. Without either of these elements taking precedence, many are bound to be disappointed.
My rating for this book (two of five stars) is on the basis of the storyline, rather than the concept of family versus space. Yes, Howey writes well, is informed of the ins and outs of space programmes, and is knowledgeable enough to write an accurate representation of an astronaut’s experience, however as a form of entertainment, it is considerably lacking. Those expecting a narrative similar to other well-written science fiction novels will be sorely disappointed.
“As they look to the stars, what are they missing back home?” </i>In a handful of year’s time, it can be presumed that dreams of humans on Mars will become closer to a reality. In Meg Howey’s <i>The Wanderers</i>, the time has come to select the potential candidates to participate in the first crewed mission to the Red Planet. Yet, as the astronauts prepare to walk among the stars, their families are left to consider a life without them.
The story is told through the perspectives of seven characters. Perhaps the most important are the three astronauts: Helen, Sergei and Yoshi, who are enclosed in a tiny mock-spacecraft, as they practice the hypothetical challenges and experiences they may encounter on a real trip to Mars. The remaining chapters are shared out amongst family members: Mireille, Helen’s adult daughter; Dmitri, Sergei’s fifteen-year old son; and Madoka, Yoshi’s wife – the final character being Luke, a psychiatrist tasked with observing the mental state of the astronauts throughout the experiment.
Interestingly, those being left behind are less concerned about their parent or spouse, choosing to focus on their own, everyday life, problems. Left to their own devices, they worry about their careers, their sexuality and the ways in which others perceive them. All, presumably as a result of the lack of contact with their significant family member, have become capable of surviving independently, however do not appear to realize how lonely they are.
The astronauts, on the other hand, are preoccupied with thoughts of space, concentrating so hard on the mission ahead of them that they fail to think of anything else. However, after months of only having each other for company, their thoughts begin to drift in the direction of home, their childhood, worries about their family, guilt – all notions that are fairly alien to the career driven characters.
Whilst it is interesting to witness the character developments, there is not a significant storyline. The book only encompasses the training period for the prospective space mission, and does not appear to have a substantial conclusion. Whether the astronauts eventually make it to Mars, and whether their consciences encourage them to behave differently towards their families, remains unknown.
<i>The Wanderers</i> has the essence of a work of fiction that English Literature students or professors would enjoy pulling apart, examining the language and literary techniques as they seek the understanding of the various emotions portrayed. Unfortunately, the majority will not have chosen to read this book for this precise purpose, expecting a science fiction novel full of excitement and interesting plot. Without either of these elements taking precedence, many are bound to be disappointed.
My rating for this book (two of five stars) is on the basis of the storyline, rather than the concept of family versus space. Yes, Howey writes well, is informed of the ins and outs of space programmes, and is knowledgeable enough to write an accurate representation of an astronaut’s experience, however as a form of entertainment, it is considerably lacking. Those expecting a narrative similar to other well-written science fiction novels will be sorely disappointed.
Joe Wright’s 2011 film version of Hanna starring Saoirse Ronan, Cate Blanchett and Eric Bana is an odd movie. It isn’t bad. It just doesn’t work. The idea at its heart is great, as are some of the action sequences, there is just something over styled about it that is jarring. I’ve been back to it a few times to see if age helps, but it really doesn’t – Hanna the movie is an admirable failure.
So when Amazon announced they were resurrecting the character, the basic story and idea and the essential vibe of Hanna in 2019 as a series… I was pretty sceptical. I doubt to this day I would have watched it at all if I hadn’t stumbled across the trailer and been arrested by the presence of this young girl who had been cast in the main role. She looked wild and vulnerable at the same time, her eyes were piercing and something about her was just jumping off the screen. I went to IMDb as is my habit to find out who she was. Turns out her name was Esme Creed-Miles, the daughter of actors Samantha Morton and Charlie Creed-Miles.
Wow, yes, that made sense! I love Samantha Morton in anything – have done ever since she played Joanne Barnes in Cracker, aged 17. She has a ferocious beauty and edge of danger about her that is entirely feminine but also fearlessly strong and individual. Her roles have always been diverse, because she is capable of total power or intense vulnerability, sometimes in the same character, all laced with a focused intelligence that is quite rare. So, I had basically seen all of that in a two minute trailer staring a chip off the old block. Now I was excited to see it!
I wouldn’t say the set up of season one blew me away, but it did have enough going for it to keep me watching. Not as a binge watch, which usually indicates how much I am into something, but for sure as a steady desire to come back for more in time. Joel Kinnaman made a decent replacement as Erik, the father figure who teaches Hanna to survive, and Mireille Enos was doing a lovely job in the Cate Blanchett role as an ambiguous villain / ally. But it was all about Esme Creed-Miles, who was consistently delivering a performance of mesmerising quality – I could not take my eyes off her. As with the character she was playing there was some learning to be done in understanding the rules of this world, but she had obviously been trained well by a parent with huge experience in these things.
Season one ends with a tantalising cliffhanger, and there didn’t seem to be much of a wait to get back into it in season two, which felt more assured and more mature from the start. It came to me at a weird time in lockdown where I had no internet or means to watch anything I hadn’t downloaded already, which was a handful of films I’d already seen and season two of Hanna. I ended up watching each episode at least three times each, sometimes in a row, and sometimes going back… it just became a real companion to me in an odd way. I got hooked on it in a way I would find hard to describe – sometimes a show does that to us, even when objectively we know it isn’t the best, or most original, thing ever made.
It isn’t badly made by any means, but it is perhaps a little predictable at times. It has a high production standard, but still feels very much like TV and not a feature film in episodes. The action choreography is always great, as is the overall story arch. What is perhaps a little lacking is consistently strong dialogue, directing and supporting acting, especially when the cast of season two depends on a lot of teenagers, none of which have half the natural ability of Creed-Miles.
My main feeling about Hanna is to state I really enjoyed it, without overstating that it is any kind of genius, or is treading any new artistic ground. It is just a solid entertainment worth the time, and I will definitely be looking forward to season three. The entire project has a strong female core, and that is worth seeing in 2021. I suspect the main thing watching this will bring, however, is the genesis of a future superstar. Mark my words – Esme Creed-Miles just turned 21 and the film world is ready for the next Emma Stone, Jennifer Lawrence or… Samantha Morton.
So when Amazon announced they were resurrecting the character, the basic story and idea and the essential vibe of Hanna in 2019 as a series… I was pretty sceptical. I doubt to this day I would have watched it at all if I hadn’t stumbled across the trailer and been arrested by the presence of this young girl who had been cast in the main role. She looked wild and vulnerable at the same time, her eyes were piercing and something about her was just jumping off the screen. I went to IMDb as is my habit to find out who she was. Turns out her name was Esme Creed-Miles, the daughter of actors Samantha Morton and Charlie Creed-Miles.
Wow, yes, that made sense! I love Samantha Morton in anything – have done ever since she played Joanne Barnes in Cracker, aged 17. She has a ferocious beauty and edge of danger about her that is entirely feminine but also fearlessly strong and individual. Her roles have always been diverse, because she is capable of total power or intense vulnerability, sometimes in the same character, all laced with a focused intelligence that is quite rare. So, I had basically seen all of that in a two minute trailer staring a chip off the old block. Now I was excited to see it!
I wouldn’t say the set up of season one blew me away, but it did have enough going for it to keep me watching. Not as a binge watch, which usually indicates how much I am into something, but for sure as a steady desire to come back for more in time. Joel Kinnaman made a decent replacement as Erik, the father figure who teaches Hanna to survive, and Mireille Enos was doing a lovely job in the Cate Blanchett role as an ambiguous villain / ally. But it was all about Esme Creed-Miles, who was consistently delivering a performance of mesmerising quality – I could not take my eyes off her. As with the character she was playing there was some learning to be done in understanding the rules of this world, but she had obviously been trained well by a parent with huge experience in these things.
Season one ends with a tantalising cliffhanger, and there didn’t seem to be much of a wait to get back into it in season two, which felt more assured and more mature from the start. It came to me at a weird time in lockdown where I had no internet or means to watch anything I hadn’t downloaded already, which was a handful of films I’d already seen and season two of Hanna. I ended up watching each episode at least three times each, sometimes in a row, and sometimes going back… it just became a real companion to me in an odd way. I got hooked on it in a way I would find hard to describe – sometimes a show does that to us, even when objectively we know it isn’t the best, or most original, thing ever made.
It isn’t badly made by any means, but it is perhaps a little predictable at times. It has a high production standard, but still feels very much like TV and not a feature film in episodes. The action choreography is always great, as is the overall story arch. What is perhaps a little lacking is consistently strong dialogue, directing and supporting acting, especially when the cast of season two depends on a lot of teenagers, none of which have half the natural ability of Creed-Miles.
My main feeling about Hanna is to state I really enjoyed it, without overstating that it is any kind of genius, or is treading any new artistic ground. It is just a solid entertainment worth the time, and I will definitely be looking forward to season three. The entire project has a strong female core, and that is worth seeing in 2021. I suspect the main thing watching this will bring, however, is the genesis of a future superstar. Mark my words – Esme Creed-Miles just turned 21 and the film world is ready for the next Emma Stone, Jennifer Lawrence or… Samantha Morton.