Midnight Special

It must be the season for movies about people with potentially catastrophic superpowers being seen as either a saviour or a weapon depending on your point of view; fortunately for Midnight Special, it's directed by Jeff Nichols instead of Zack Snyder, thereby rendering it several million percent more watchable than Batman v Superman. It doesn't have Hans Zimmer's Wonder Woman theme in it though, so I guess you can't have everything.

Despite those superficial similarities, Midnight Special is nothing like a superhero film. It's a fairly self-contained and muted affair about Alton, a boy with initially unspecified but frankly alarming issues, who's been held captive by a mad religious sect until his pop Roy (Michael Shannon) breaks him out. The clock's ticking though: for reasons best not divulged here, there are just four days for the cult to snatch Alton back, and the same amount of time for Roy to get him to safety, before... well. Before something.

Nichols' film is a low-key mood piece, in a similar vein to the bits of Looper set at Emily Blunt's farm. In fact if Looper had been told entirely from that scary little brat's POV, the result wouldn't be far from Midnight Special. But it's not Rian Johnson that Nichols is channeling the most here: there's another huge presence looming over proceedings, and that presence has a beard and wears a baseball cap and is married to Kate Capshaw. OK fine, it's Spielberg. I'm talking about Steven Spielberg.

Specifically, though quite possibly coincidentally, Nichols appears to be homaging The Berg's early career: the cross-country chase evokes The Sugarland Express, there's an otherworldly Close Encounters vibe going on, and E.T.'s military pursuit of that which they do not fully understand also figures strongly. It's a darker shade of Amblinism for the most part, unshowy and stripped of its trademark sentimentality, although Nichols can't resist throwing in dazzling shafts of white light and dysfunctional parents just to be sure of a full house in his game of Spielbingo.

The danger of evoking these kind of touchstones, as was also apparent in JJ Abrams' Super 8, is that if the end product doesn't turn out to be one for the ages then you probably shouldn't have made the tributes so obvious. And while Midnight Special is definitely worth your while, it never quite fulfils the promise of its best scenes, in which Alton's troubling powers are revealed. The otherworldly elements here play second fiddle to a road movie which takes in Kirsten Dunst (in a fairly thankless and inconsequential role as Alton's mother) and Adam Driver as The One Good Government Guy, and while I'm all for character-based sci-fi I prefer it when the characters aren't quite as thin as they are here.

All credit to Jeff Nichols, whose output is consistently varied (if you don't count the ubiquitous Michael Shannon) and interesting; he's a director well worth watching and almost certainly has a masterpiece in him somewhere. Midnight Special isn't it, but it'll do for now.

Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens

Obviously I'd hate to be the kind of terrific bore who sees everything through the prism of James Bond, but unfortunately I already am that guy so let me say this about The Force Awakens: it is everything I wanted from Spectre. Or at least I thought it was when I came out of the screening. On reflection, Star Wars v3.1 is actually Skyfall: a crowd-pleasing, carefully-calibrated blend of the old and the new, lighting a new fire of excitement under a franchise I had genuinely become concerned about, and featuring a winning performance from Daniel Craig. Competition isn't fierce, but it's fair to say that what we're dealing with here is the best Star Wars film since The Empire Strikes Back.

"This will begin to make things right," The Force Awakens announces with its very first line of dialogue, in a statement of intent that boasts Death Star-sized balls. It's some indication, were it even required, of all that's at stake here, and that Disney were absolutely determined not to make an absolute Christensen of their new project. And so director JJ Abrams, with co-writers Lawrence Kasdan and Michael Arndt, have delicately crafted a loving tribute to the original trilogy which all but ignores Episodes I-III: there's no reference to any prequel-specific characters, no mention of midichlorians and a ruthless targeting of middle-aged geeks that shows up George Lucas' claim that Star Wars must be aimed at children as the poor excuse for infantilising the saga that it is.

There's a danger that, in appealing to the fanbase as hard as they do, Abrams and co might have gone a little too far. A lot that happens in The Force Awakens is suspiciously familiar: a hero entrusts vital information to a droid and packs it off to be unwittingly discovered by a simple youth with untapped, supernatural potential; a motley band of rebels attack the spherical, planet-smashing base of an evil army; the de facto leader of that army force-chokes minions and chats to his boss via hologram; fathers and sons have issues that are worked through traumatically, and so on. The film could have done with a little less of this and a little more Oscar Isaac, but to be fair that's true of almost any film ever made.

What's new is what's worth celebrating, because it's good enough to forgive the script its occasional obsequious nod to the glory days, and the first thing to say is how unutterably brilliant it is that the protagonists of a multi-million dollar Hollywood blockbuster - which has the potential to become the biggest film of all time - are a woman and a black man. It's ludicrous that we should even be discussing this in 2015, but here we are, so let's at least appreciate the moment: Daisy Ridley and John Boyega pull off their unspeakably high-pressure roles without the script ever needing to make reference to the fact that they're not white men, and it's impossible to overstate how important that is. Not just that, but they're both bloody great at what they do: Ridley carries off the confidence laced with subtle confusion that her character demands, while Boyega proves his action hero chops and effortlessly displays the lightness of touch required to make the humour work.

Other new characters are equally successful: Adam Driver's Kylo Ren, who could easily have been Diet Vader, is a fascinating addition. The childlike petulance that bubbles away beneath the surface of his fearsome warrior makes him thrillingly dangerous, and his connection to the saga's existing inhabitants adds invaluable emotional depth; a key scene uses literal and metaphorical light and dark to devastating effect. Meanwhile the embarrassingly-named Poe Dameron is the charismatic hero the prequels so tragically lacked, and Oscar Isaac and his magnificent hair have a ruddy ball with him. Speaking of balls, new droid and blatant Christmas toy ad BB-8 is delightful, although he does seem to have ported his vocal software over from a Waste Allocation Load Lifter (Earth class) he evidently met on his travels.

Then, of course, there's the school of '77-'83, of whom Harrison Ford is, quite rightly, front and centre. It's an utter joy to see Han Solo back in action, and almost makes you wonder if J-Jabs shouldn't make Indy 5 his next project. Carrie Fisher and Mark Hamill have less to do, but their very presence is enough to warm the cockles of even this stone cold excuse for a heart. Audience investment in these guys is so high that Abrams could, arguably, have just had them stand there for a bit and shuffle about, but he uses each of them with the appropriate reverence - and irreverence - and, thankfully, doesn't try to give C-3PO much to do beyond, well, standing there for a bit and shuffling about. Enormous props too to costume designer Michael Kaplan, who's designed a set of iconic outfits for the ages (Poe Dameron's jacket now, please) and - obviously - John Williams, whose score is the equal of everything else he's done for this cinematic universe. I got chills at two very specific moments: one boosted by an incredible new theme, and one gloriously recalling an old one.

A near-relentless chase movie with a genius MacGuffin and character beats which span every emotion you ever felt watching these films, The Force Awakens successfully completes its primary objective - not to fuck itself up - with knobs on. Its own backstory may be a little vague (the genesis of both the evil First Order and the Resistance are glossed over with troubling alacrity), but what it lacks in exposition it makes up for in just being really, really Star Warsy. Arguably its greater responsibility, though, is to ramp up the demand for two further episodes, plus the Anthology films that will briefly, and hopefully, take the franchise out of its comfort zone. Well I don't know about you but post-Episode VII, four more Star Wars films doesn't feel like nearly enough. I am frothing at the cock for more, and I'm not sure it's a froth I can easily contain. The force has indeed awakened, and it's testing my underpant elastic to its limits.


Are you remotely interested in what I thought about Episodes I-VI? Then step this way, you weirdo

MASSIVE SPOILERS IN THE COMMENTS BELOW

LIKE, REALLY, REALLY, EXPERIENCE-RUINING SPOILERS

I'M NOT DICKING ABOUT HERE

Super 8

At the end of 2009, after watching Star Trek for a second time, I suggested that JJ Abrams was "well on the way to becoming this generation's Spielberg". Evidently J-Jabs is an avid reader of The Incredible Suit, because his immediate reaction was to get jiggy with ol' beardy features and make his own Spielbaby. And while the product of their hideously-imagined union isn't perfect, it is ruddy bloody good fun.

Let me know if I'm taking this metaphor too far

Super 8, as you will know by now unless you're stupid or dead, attempts to capture the tone of some of the films Spielberg produced and directed in the '80s. In this respect it most resembles E.T., with its broken families and small town invaded by both a mysterious creature and the military, and The Goonies, with its band of pubescent protagonists including a plucky mop-topped leader and the requisite fatty.

Things begin well with a cast of excellent near-unknowns and an amazing, ear-splitting train crash that goes on for approximately six weeks, before Abrams fills the bulk of his film with perfectly respectable bits of pre-teen drama, occasional mini-LOLs and the odd violent and noisy interruption by a massive, unseen gremlin.

The homage to Spielberg is more or less successful in Super 8's mise-en-scène (sorry), thanks in no small part to cinematographer Larry Fong's soaring crane shots, and composer Michael Giacchino brings a knowingly John Williams-esque feel to the score. And while there are enough elements of the script to make it a decent cover version of Amblin's Greatest Hits, Super 8 falls short of its target in the final act. There's nowhere near the emotional connection between kids and creature that Elliott has with E.T, and the youngsters don't drive the plot forward like the Goonies do. What's more, at no point does The Fat One do the Truffle Shuffle.

I AM NOW LEGALLY REQUIRED TO INCLUDE THE TRUFFLE SHUFFLE .GIF.

It's also hard not to be disappointed by the creature: with the tools at Abrams' disposal, he should be giving us full on Jurassic Park-style monster madness, rather than a shy bogeyman who hides just out of shot until the climax. Fortunately the rest of the film is good enough to keep your mind from wandering, and if it's not you can always speculate on exactly why all the dogs run away, or perhaps enjoy a challenging game of Count The Lens Flares. I lost track after about thirteen squillion.

In years to come it's unlikely that Super 8 will nestle snugly in the memories of today's children, but for now it remains solid summer blockbuster entertainment, and unless apes, cowboys or aliens can out-entertain it, it's the best we'll get in 2011.

Those Super 8 Trailer Lens Flares In Full

The trailer for JJ Abrams' Super 8, the film The Incredible Suit is quite possibly looking forward to more than any other this year, was released on Friday. It looked an awful lot like this:



It's very exciting and all but clearly the best thing about it is the truly ridonkulous amount of lens flares Abrams has crammed in to his new film. It's a little-known fact that he exhausted the global supply of lens flares with 2009's Star Trek, and so has had to employ thousands of third-world slave children to create more so that he can realise his vision for Super 8.

Obviously, though, you can't just shove in a lens flare without it having a credible source - I mean, that would imply they're just being used because they look cool - so let's take a closer look at where all these rogue flashes of light are originating, shall we? Yes, we shall.

Even the poster can't escape: 

JJ Abrams' Super 8 Trailer!*

The Incredible Suit would like to take a moment to register its excitement for Super 8, a 2011 film written and directed by JJ Abrams and produced by Steven Spielberg.

Just to clarify, that's a new film from the people responsible for, among other things, Raiders Of the Lost Ark and Back To The Future (two of The Incredible Suit's best films of all time ever), Cloverfield (The Incredible Suit's best film of 2008), Star Trek (The Incredible Suit's second best film of 2009) and Lost (The Incredible Suit's second best TV show of all time ever).

There's a trailer out there in full crappovision if you like that kind of thing; I'm such an unbearable snob that I refuse to watch it until it's on the interwebs in an officially sanctioned format that takes an hour to buffer. In the meantime I'm happy to gaze like a horny teenager at the heartbreaking beauty created by the combination of the following words and pictures:

Furthermore, if you want to goggle in disbelief at the lengths some people will go to to unpick a film's viral marketing campaign, have a look at this. These guys are so high up the Ladder Of Geek I can't even see them from my rung.

*Post does not feature JJ Abrams' Super 8 trailer

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Worful

After watching JJ Abrams' quite amazing Star Trek reboot when it came out last year, I decided to delve into the back catalogue of Treks to see if they were all as rubbish as I remember them being. As it turned out, they weren't, except for Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, which is the Moonraker, the Alien Vs Predator and the Die Hard 4.0 of Star Trek films all rolled into one cheesy, dripping, sweaty tribble.

Anyway this Trek trek has so far taken nearly a year and I'm up to Part 8: First Contact. I haven't seen any of these Next Generation ones before so I'm boldly going blah blah blah etc etc. Nevertheless I think I can safely say that I've come across the most Wildean piece of dialogue, delivered in the most heartfelt and emotionally powerful manner imaginable, in the entire series.

Take it away Lieutenant Cornishpastyface:



Zing.

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Speed: The Forgotten Legend

Nobody mentions Speed these days. It's fantastic, it should get a mention every day on the news as a reminder of how good action films can be. I can hear Huw Edwards now: "And finally, don't forget the clocks go forward this weekend, or that Speed remains a classic example of the action genre 16 years on. And now, the weather."

There are several people who should be remembered for their contribution to Speed, and The Incredible Suit is pleased to give them a 'shout out' or a 'big up' or whatever the kids call it these days.

Graham Yost, Writer

Speed's story structure is flawless. Mildly exciting lift sequence, pause for coffee, heart-attack-inducingly thrilling and clinically constructed second act, pause to collect ransom, silly but gripping final act on train, kiss, the end. And there are just the right amount of quiet, emotional beats at just the right times so you don't get worn out.

Also, "Yeah... well I'm taller": genius.

Graham Yost has written nothing as good, before or since.

Jan de Bont, Director

De Bont sensibly doesn't worry too much about his actors - there's only so much you can get Keanu Reeves to do - and instead keeps his story constantly moving, like a shark. On a bus. There are almost no static shots in 116 minutes and - along with the zippy editing - it's what keeps the film from going below 50 and exploding.

De Bont also brought along some of the lens flares he had left over from when he was cinematographer on Die Hard. Sadly lens flares are now an endangered species since JJ Abrams depleted the global supply with Star Trek, but it was worth it.

Jan de Bont has directed nothing as good, before or since.

Mark Mancina, Score Composer

Speed's score is classic action film music. Its stabbing motif and rolling percussion are perfect accompaniments to the on-screen mayhem, and its softer moments accurately judged for the soppy bits. Sometimes it strays too far into '80s electronica, and Billy Idol over the end credits is unforgivable, but I'm assuming Mancina wasn't responsible for that.

Mark Mancina has composed nothing as good, before or since.

Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock, Stars

A man's gotta know his limitations, and Keanu does. The Incredible Suit respects him for that. He's also an amazing advert for white t-shirts, although if you put one on YOU WILL NOT LOOK LIKE HIM. I know from bitter experience. You'd think I'd have learned after the Bruce Willis / dirty vest episode.

As for Sandra, my heart goes out to her every time she hits that pram. I just want to give her a hug and tell her it'll be alright. She's perfect as Annie Porter. Yes, Porter. One who transports things to their destination.

Neither Reeves nor Bullock have been as good in anything before or since. Although Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure is close.

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Star Trek

I watched JJ Abrams’ reboot (swiftly becoming this decade’s most annoying word) of Star Trek again recently. By gum it’s good. Some things I love about it:

• Jim Kirk’s Dad, in the opening scenes, is heroic to the point where I caught a light sniffle and got something in my eye, but I soon manned up and got over it.
• Apparently The Beastie Boys’ Sabotage is still required listening in the 23rd century. This is excellent news.
• The whole idea of rebooting (sorry) the series by changing the course of time, and thereby creating an alternate reality for the Enterprise crew, is so genius you could give it a bristly moustache and a Doc Brown hairdo and call it Albert.
• I'm listening to the soundtrack as I type these words, and it's making the whole experience terribly multi-sensual. I think I can even smell Scotty's tribble.
• In a time where every rebooted franchise has to be so dark you need night-vision goggles to see it, Star Trek is bright, colourful and silly, and returns to the cinema a sense of fun not seen since Spielberg’s 1980s run of chucklesome blockbusters (which I hereby trademark as 'Chucklebusters'). In fact I daresay Abrams is well on the way to becoming this generation’s Spielberg. Yes, I actually said that. You read it here first.* 

I’ve never been a Treknologist; in fact I've never been even slightly Treknotronic. I might even go as far as to describe myself as a Treknophobe. But this film made me go back and watch all the old movies again. They’re actually quite good, except for Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, which is very very awful, and the 'Next Generation' films have a dangerously high Fidgit Factor. Furthermore, I don’t know any hardcore Trekoraks, so I don’t know if they found the new movie to be a joyous celebration of sci-fi wonderment or a poo on William Shatner’s grave. Not that he’s dead, obviously. But I think The Onion said it best, and not for the first time:

 *Unless you read it on my Twitter page a few days ago

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