British director Joe Wright first made his mark with two acclaimed but (for my money) unsatisfying literary adaptations: Pride & Prejudice, with its overly picturesque mud and straw, and Atonement, which merely confirmed the unfilmable quality of Ian McEwan's source novel. His latest marks a radical and surprisingly exciting departure, venturing recklessly into the world of kinetic action-adventure replete with a pumping techno score (courtesy of the Chemical Brothers) and Kick-Ass-style outre action.
Owing a clear debt to both Léon and Nikita (with a hint of Bourne's search for identity), Hanna (2011, Universal, 12) casts rising star Saoirse Ronan as a mysterious young girl raised in the wilds of Finland by her father (Eric Bana) who has taught her to live, breathe and even sleep in combat mode. All this training, it transpires, is preparing her for an inevitable confrontation with Cate Blanchett's sneering nemesis who, like the Terminator, will stop at nothing until she is dead. After a brisk character-establishing first act, the dramatic flare goes up and the chase is on – and it pretty much stays on for the rest of the movie's entertainingly frenetic running time.
Like all Wright's work (with the possible exception of The Soloist), Hanna is characterised by an uneven tone, lurching from violence to comedy, from pathos to punches. Both Blanchett and Bana experiment with outrageous accents, while Tom Hollander delivers a supporting performance of quite breathtakingly villainous high camp, sporting tracksuits that make him look like the pervy uncle of the killers from Funny Games. Jason Flemyng and Olivia Williams, meanwhile, have fun as a pair of old-hippie parents who have no idea just how lethally "free spirted" the cherubic Hanna can be.
Behind it all there's a twisted fairytale motif that leads inexorably to the house of the Brothers Grimm, recalling the cranked-up symbolism of Neil Jordan. It could all be a terrible mess were it not for Ronan's hefty emotional anchor, her barnstorming central performance somehow drawing together all the disparate elements and making sense of the surrounding chaos. She is a remarkable screen presence, who here adds running, jumping, punching, shooting and kicking to her already expansive dramatic repertoire with the ease of a seasoned professional. It all adds up to a thrillingly visceral experience; ill-disciplined, unruly, uneven and enjoyably overcooked.
Judging by his work on the generally unfunny Simon Pegg comedy Run, Fatboy, Run, there seemed precious little to commend actor David Schwimmer's directorial skills. Not so with Trust (2010, Lionsgate, 15), an intelligent (if televisual) tale of internet grooming which avoids both exploitation and mawkishness in its depiction of a young girl's "relationship" with a predatory middle-aged man.
Liana Liberato is excellent as the teenager who thinks she's found a soulmate online and whose emotional turmoil and sense of personal uncertainty are used by her abuser for horribly plausible ends. Plaudits, too, to Catherine Keener and Clive Owen who are both utterly believable as the traumatised parents whose reactions to their daughter's plight range from heartbroken sympathy to blind anger.
Perhaps the script overreaches itself in the depiction of Owen's character as an advertising man whose latest campaign shamelessly sexualises adolescence, but he manages to keep his feet on the ground even as events move toward dramatic overstatement. Understandably little seen in cinemas, Trust deserves to find a wider audience on DVD, where it may well provoke constructive discussion.
On the basis of its title, I expected the worst of Killing Bono (2011, Paramount, 15), Nick Hamm's adaptation of a memoir by Neil McCormick via a romping screenplay by Clement and La Frenais. In fact there's much to like about this low-budget, homegrown production, not least its depiction of life in a never-quite-made-it rock band. The problem lies in the tension between the material, which is grounded in down-to-earth reality (the internecine rivalries between schoolyard brothers and bands), and the more ill-fitting OTT elements (notably the titular "killing") which descend into daft caper and undercut the otherwise low-key comedy. It doesn't help that Bono is portrayed in saintly terms throughout, giving the impression that the film-makers craved his approval above all things. The movie is actually at its best when U2 are in absentia. As for Pete Postlethwaite, he brings his usual vigour, vim and wit to a comparatively small role which reminds us just what a treasure he was, and how much he will be missed.
And so to Hop (2011, Universal, U), a grisly seasonal comedy that was about as welcome as a fart in a spacesuit when it shipped up in cinemas at Easter, and now as a late-summer DVD release has the added drawback of being both awful and out of date. Russell Brand, whose choice of movie projects is best described as erratic (did anyone find Arthur remotely funny?) provides the voice of a rebellious bunny who runs away from his inherited commitment to delivering chocolate eggs in order to follow his dreams of becoming a rock drummer.
Director Tim Hill attempts to cross the surprisingly saleable charms of his previous hit Alvin and the Chipmunks with the convoluted plot mechanics of The Santa Clause, and in doing so comes up with a thuddingly cynical dirge of a movie that will bore children and adults alike.
According to IMDb, Hill is currently "in development" with a project called Walter the Farting Dog, about "a family learning to live with an extremely flatulent dog". Can't wait.
