Friday's film reviews: Jurassic World, London Road and Queen & Country
Jurassic World begs, borrows and affectionately steals from the original 1993 box office behemoth, including a cameo for the Mr DNA animation and a set piece in the iconic visitor centre (now overgrown).
Two stricken children are a focal point when the park goes into meltdown, and mission control boasts a nerdy computer wizard (Jake Johnson) for mild comic relief.
If the nuts and bolts of the screenplay are unabashedly retro, the special effects are undeniably state-of-the-art, realising creatures great and small, which chomp through countless extras and the main cast.
This is by far the bloodiest chapter of the Jurassic saga, if not quite the best.
Jurassic World is a muscular, rollicking romp that captures some of the adrenaline-pumping thrills and jaw-dropping awe we felt more than 20 years ago when Steven Spielberg first unleashed dinosaurs back into the world.
Chris Pratt is an instantly likeable hero and he catalyses a simmering screen chemistry with Bryce Dallas Howard as the workaholic who faces the dino-pocalypse in highly inappropriate footwear.
Vincent D’Onofrio glowers as one of the film’s boo-hiss villains, who views the creatures as expendable assets.
“We own them. Extinct animals have no rights,” he snarls.
Action sequences are orchestrated at a lick, seamlessly integrating digital trickery with live action including chaotic scenes of a flock of pteranodons plucking visitors from the ground.
3½
71%
Event cinema – live screenings of theatre and opera productions, exhibitions, music concerts and other entertainment – has become increasingly popular and lucrative.
The National Theatre in London has been at the forefront of this revolution, broadcasting more than 20 productions by satellite since June 2009 including Phedre with Helen Mirren and Danny Boyle’s Frankenstein with Benedict Cumberbatch and Jonny Lee Miller.
In a neat reversal, the theatre’s Artistic Director, Rufus Norris, embraces the cinematic medium with this daring screen version of the critically adored verbatim drama London Road.
The ground-breaking stage work, which premiered in April 2011, documents the real-life discovery of the bodies of five women in Suffolk in 2006 in the words of residents of the titular Ipswich street.
By expanding London Road from the claustrophobic confines of a theatre stage, Norris’ film lacks some of the electrifying tension of its original incarnation.
The original 11-strong cast, who embodied more than 70 characters, reprise roles on screen, flanked by more recognisable faces including Olivia Colman and Tom Hardy.
Alecky Blythe and Adam Cork’s innovative musical score is still impressive with the backing of the BBC Orchestra, and Javier De Frutos’ accentuated choreography looks terrific on a wider canvas.
The rhythm, pitch and metre of Blythe’s recorded interviews are replicated in the sung dialogue, which is a far cry from the usual verses and soaring melodies of big-screen musicals.
However, audiences should persevere because there are moments of startling brilliance captured on screen by Norris and his team.
3/5
90%
Queen & Country continues the misadventures of Boorman’s fictional hero in 1987’s Hope And Glory, unfolding almost 10 years later when Bill has come of age and can now serve his country.
Any affection for the previous picture sours as it becomes painfully clear that this second traipse down the filmmaker’s memory lane is an emotionally underpowered family portrait, beset by awkward shifts in tone and uneven performances.
Dad’s Army-style buffoonery sits uncomfortably next to serious consideration of post-traumatic stress disorder suffered by returning soldiers, adorned with a tepid romantic sub-plot that fails to stir our unabashedly patriotic hearts.
Queen & Country is a crushing disappointment.
Turner is a solid protagonist, but his acting mettle is rarely tested while Texan co-star Jones fights a war of attrition with a plummy English accent and overacts wildly to distract attention from his verbal mangling.
Boorman’s script occasionally glisters, like when one character sums up the intrigue of the Cambridge Five spy ring by deadpanning, “Buggery and skulduggery go hand in hand”, but these nuggets of verbal gold are few and far between.
By the time Bill and Percy are hauled before a court-martial judge (Julian Wadham) to answer questions about the theft of a regimental clock instigated by Private Redmond (Pat Shortt), our patience has run out.
2/5
80%
