Resurrection Man (1998)

....Or Clockwork Orangeman as it could almost be called.

Resurrection Man is a 1998 film from director Marc Evans that is based on the 1994 novel of the same name by Eoin McNamee. Like that book, McNamee's screenplay takes inspiration from what is arguably the most notorious sequence of killings to occur in Northern Irish history during the Troubles. Between 1975 and 1977, several Catholic men were picked at random during the hours of darkness by an Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) gang known as The Shankill Butchers. The gang earned their name because of the ferocious and brutal way they tortured, mutilated and dispatched victims who were chosen solely for their religion; cleavers, axes and butcher's knives were the tools of their trade (though they weren't above shootings and bombings in their long-running bloody sectarian campaign either) and their ringleader, described by one detective as 'a ruthless, dedicated terrorist with a sadistic streak, regarded by those who knew him well as a psychopath' was one Lenny Murphy. In 1979 eleven of the gang were given 42 life sentences totaling almost 2,000 years for 100 charges including 19 counts of murder. Murphy himself was already in prison on a lesser charge at this point and, as a result, was never convicted of murder. His violent life and sadistic reign of terror came to an end four years later in 1982 however when, pulling up at his girlfriend's home, he was shot twenty-two times by two IRA gunmen.

Centre-stage in this tale is Stuart Townsend as Victor Kelly, our thinly disguised fictional version of Murphy. A naturally good looking man, Townsend brings a degree of dark glamour and kinky, twisted romanticism to the role despite the abhorrent nature of his character, traits which are a world away from the real Murphy who went by the nickname 'Planet of the Apes' on account of his neanderthal looks. What is carried over from fact to fiction however is the theory that Murphy's murderous zeal stemmed from the fact that this great loyalist terrorist had some Catholic blood himself. This appears to stem from the fact that Murphy is a fairly uncommon name amongst Protestants but it is worth saying that is not an unusual one by any means. Whilst Murphy's commitment may well have been driven by suggestions that he himself was the thing he despised the most, a 'Fenian', the film goes one further by depicting his father as an ineffectual and weak-willed man whom many claim to be Catholic. This slur clearly weighs heavily on both Townsend's Kelly and his overbearing mother (played superbly by Brenda Fricker) who each treat the 'man of the house', their father and husband respectively (George Shane), with utter contempt and disdain. Whilst this is clearly a work of fiction and psychological conjecture (Murphy senior was actually a serving member in the UVF) it helps to bolster that other trademark of gangster movies, namely the oedipal nature of the relationship between kingpin son and his beloved mother which stretches all the way back to Cagney's White Heat, a film that the young Kelly is seen to watch in complete awe at one point. Certainly the behaviour of Fricker when Kelly's blonde haired, doe-eyed and pneumatic moll, Heather (Geraldine O'Rawle) comes round is more in keeping with a bitter love rival than a mother simply wanting the best for her child. Freud is further wheeled out in a suggestion of repressed homosexuality too; Kelly mimics oral sex with his pistol as a way to attract the attention of UVF big-hitters, McClure (Sean McGinley) and Darkie (John Hannah), and is shown to lavish much, pseudo-erotic attention on his victims during torture (he's often naked from the waist up too, presumably to spare this peacock's beloved wardrobe any bloodshed); the final deathstroke often coming to resemble a near-ejaculate like bloodletting and a significant release that leaves Kelly near-catotonically spent. It is also revealed that McClure has shown him photographs of 'English boys in bed together'. This revelation comes during a particularly outrageous, drink and drug-fuelled scene that features the pair embracing and almost kissing whilst Jerusalem plays in the Union Jack bedecked backroom of the bar, with McClure wearing an SS cap!  

It's these little moments of loyalist patriotism that actually gives the film it's sense of place. Indeed, what's interesting about Resurrection Man is how, despite its true-life inspiration, it removes itself from much of the Troubles to simply depict instead the story of a serial killer/gangster. Just take a look at the press release blurb that was subsequently used on the DVD release;

'Victor Kelly is a gangster and ruthless murderer - a 'Scarface' for his generation. He is the leader of a gang of killers known as "Resurrection Men" who target victims in a city where boundaries are marked by blood. Victor's cruelty makes him a ghastly local legend, both feared and venerated. On his trail is Ryan, a journalist, fuelled by an obsessive need to discover the truth about the "Resurrection Man" he is unaware of the risk to his own life. "Resurrection Man" is a chilling and controversial film not for the faint-hearted'

I do wonder if this seeming refusal to acknowledge the political situation inherent in the film, both in this blurb and in the film itself (only slurs of 'Taig' and 'Fenian' indicate just what is going on), has something to do with the climate the film was released in; in 1998 a tentative peace process was being delivered in Northern Ireland which eventually came to a greater fruition at the turn of the 21st century. Whatever the reasons, it works to make Resurrection Man a universal film, riffing on notions as wide-ranging as classic gangster or serial killer films, Bonnie and Clyde romance, violence-for-kicks affairs like the aforementioned A Clockwork Orange, and an almost vampiric thirst for blood. Indeed, the scenes of a malevolent, black-clad Townsend stalking the moonlit streets for victims was enough to ensure that he was subsequently cast as Anne Rice's vampire hero Lestat (previously portrayed in cinema by Tom Cruise in Interview with a Vampire) in the 2002 film, Queen of the Damned.  

I first saw Resurrection Man not long after its release, buying it on VHS. I was interested to watch it for a number of reasons; not least my interest in the Troubles, but also my appreciation of actors such as James Nesbitt, who stars here as Ryan, the journalist on Kelly's trail, and who was at the time riding high with his success in ITV's Cold Feet  - this film affording him the opportunity to move away from comedy and light drama play the kind of heavy dramatic role he has subsequently proved just as adept at - and Derek Thompson who, since 1986, is best known for playing Charlie Fairhead in Casualty, but whose career prior to this (at present) thirty-three-year role included several Troubles-related films. Thompson took a break from Casualty, then in it's eleventh year, to play the role of Herbie Ferguson, the detective investigating the brutal murders - the last original role he has played in his career as the past twenty odd years has seen him continue in the role of nurse Fairhead. There's a reunion, of sorts, between him and his old friend Brenda Fricker, who played Megan Roach in the first five years of Casualty, though they share no actual scenes on film together. Amongst the other familiar Irish faces, there's also a fine supporting turn from the great James Ellis as a veteran seen-it-all reporter and mentor to Nesbitt, though sadly he disappears from the film once the action ramps up.

I remember watching Resurrection Man at the time and thinking 'my God, but Belfast is a bleak place', so imagine my surprise when the credits rolled around to reveal that the film had actually been shot on my own doorstep, in Warrington, Liverpool and Manchester! Indeed, plenty of scenes are shot on streets I actually know, including Legh Street in Warrington, which once housed the now demolished grand Victorian bath house that proves central to the film in its latter stages, whilst its exterior is also featured specifically in a scene in which Nesbitt questions some workers from a Chinese takeaway. The location work, aided by some good cinematography (that late 90s look, before digital colour grading took hold) all help to create a grim, desolate sense of place, with the former (so resolutely not being Belfast) helping to give that sense of near-dystopic hinterland that compliments the film's refusal to be too tied down to the reality of the setting.

As you can tell, I like Resurrection Man enough to still keep returning to it twenty-one-years after its release, though it's not a masterpiece by any means. Structurally it's somewhat unsound; what may have worked well on the page struggles to make much of an impact on the screen, specifically the implication that Kelly represents the dark side of Ryan's nature he struggles to keep in check, as evinced by his drunken beating of his wife, the local casualty doctor (Zara Turner) and his overall fascination with Kelly's violence which suggests he does what Ryan can only dream of. Both men even fall for the same woman; O'Rawle's Heather. The issue here being of course that neither man is truly likeable, which can be a stumbling block for some audiences, though Ryan does at least relinquish the grip his demons has on him thanks to his experience of the unrepentant, unreconstructed Kelly and returns to his wife, in reconciliatory mood. Director Marc Evans aims for a sort of Scorsese style in his eclectic use of '70s rock music to score scenes of revelry and violence (infamously, Mud's 'Tiger Feet' is used over the savage kicking of a Catholic in Kelly's local, whilst more satisfyingly, The Walker Brothers' 'No Regrets' plays as Herbie comes to arrest Kelly, with Heather offering her lover her best Bonnie Parker smile) but the freeze frames he often employs during such music-laden sequences are distinctly Guy Ritchie, himself no stranger to the positives of a good magpie-like soundtrack. Viewed at the time, these tricks may seem like stealing but, watched now with some distance between it, it serves as an interesting museum piece of the stylings from the turn of the century British cinema.   

Produced by Andrew Eaton and executive produced by Michael Winterbottom, Resurrection Man is a dark and unprepossessingly dour and dank psychological thriller that some audiences may find hard to stomach. Whilst it's nowhere near as gratuitously violent as any number of grimy American torture-porn horrors you can name that subsequently rose to the surface in the years after its release, it often reviles simply by what is implied or what is *just about* seen or suggested, though the real root of revulsion of course stems from the fact that what you witness is based on actual events.

Go Now (1995)

Originally shown as part of the BBC's 1995 'Love Bites' season of one-off films (the excellent Loved Up starring Ian Hart and Lena Headey was also from this season) Go Now is a passionate and heartfelt film about the impact multiple sclerosis has on a young man and his relationship with his girlfriend. Starring Robert Carlyle and Juliet Aubrey, Go Now was written by Jimmy McGovern and MS sufferer Paul Henry Powell and directed by Michael Winterbottom. With such talent both in front of and behind the cameras it should come as no surprise to hear that the film went on to win several awards. Available at long last from Simply Media DVD, a pound from each sale goes to The MS Society UK.

Carlyle stars as construction worker and talented amateur footballer Nick Cameron whose life seems further blessed when he meets Karen (Aubrey) on a night out with his mate, played by James Nesbitt - who has less luck pulling Karen's mate, played by Sophie Okonedo.

But cracks start to appear in the happy ever after when Nick starts to experience numbness, double vision and a lack of energy. Several nervous visits to specialists confirm the worst and, as MS sets in, Nick begins to sink into depression as he loses his job, his sport and his libido. Angry at the hand fate has dealt him, Nick begins to lash out at Karen and begs her to leave him. Despite her love for him, will Karen comply with his wishes?

This electrifying film benefits greatly from the unsentimental and non-manipulative approach from the director, writers and the cast. This isn't some Oscar baiting Hollywood production that believes disability is the epitome of acting and a shoo-in for an award, it treats the highs and lows with the same approach, ensuring Go Now isn't the downer you may expect. Indeed, Go Now is often very funny thanks to the laddish humour of the football team and it is also romantic (and more authentic) as any love story. This even handed attitude means we get to know and care for Nick and Karen long before the MS storyline sets in, aided by the superb acting of Carlyle and Aubrey, which ensures the pitfalls that await them come with enough emotional heft for the viewer to invest in. The stakes are high, and the film doesn't shy away from the repercussions Nick's self-sacrifice invokes in Karen's behaviour either in a further example of how far removed from Hollywood Go Now actually is.

Watching Go Now again after 20 or so years is a pleasant nostalgic experience too as it captures something of the mid '90s beautifully. Shot on location in Bristol, it even features a cameo from Tricky in one bar/club scene, and boasts a fine supporting cast of familiar faces from TV of the day. This is a rich film with a direct line to your heart and marked Winterbottom down as a director with an unerring ability to depict emotions and complex situations in a refreshingly honest, realistic way that avoids cliche and predictability.

Theme Time: Corinne Bailey Rae - Stans Lee's Lucky Man

Tonight saw the return to Sky One of Stan Lee's (yes, he of Marvel Comics fame) Lucky Man

This is the second series of the action crime drama starring James Nesbitt as Harry Clayton, a Detective Inspector in London's Murder Squad with a serious gambling addiction whose luck changes when a mysterious and beautiful stranger (Sienna Guillory) gives him an ancient bracelet that bestows upon him the gift of profound luck. The show is created by Neil Biswas, based on an original idea by Stan Lee, who once answered fans that his most wished for super power would be luck. 

I'd love to say I'm a big fan of the show, but the truth is for all its Stan Lee credentials, I find it a bit old fashioned and reminiscent of '90s Saturday action drama Bugs (which is perhaps unsurprising when you consider both programmes share a production company in Carnival Films) and I mostly amuse myself by calling it 'Jammy Bastard' rather than Lucky Man; adopting a Monkfish style trailer narration (from The Fast Show) that goes along the lines of "James Nesbitt is tough, uncompromising DI Jammy Bastard..."

But I do love the title theme tune, Lucky One, provided by the mellifluous vocals of Corinne Bailey Rae. Unfortunately, you can't really find a full length official cut of the theme, but this fan made one is the closest we have to it so far.

Hear My Song (1991)

It's funny what can capture a child's imagination.

When this came out, I was about eleven or twelve years old. The big film of 1991 for me was Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. I watched it at the cinema a total of five times and that summer was spent with my mates  making our own bows and arrows and taking to the hills. 

Yet one other film captured my attention from the same year and it was this 15 certificated directorial debut from Blackpool born Peter Chelsom concerning Irish tenor Josef Locke who was a big success in the 1940s and '50s with sell-out seasons at Blackpool, five Royal Variety Performances and a reputation as a lady-killer to his name before trouble with the taxman forced him into a self imposed exile in rural Ireland. 

Not exactly the kind of film you expect a kid to be struck by, but I was a strange kid. I think its appeal stemmed from my love at the time of old Hollywood and music of Locke's era. It wasn't long before I was raiding my grandparent's collection of 78s for tracks such as I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen and Hear My Song, Violetta. I loved the man's voice. I still do in fact - it is an enduring love that has stayed with me ever since I first heard of this film and heard Locke sing. It is a love that flickers softly like a candle in my heart and is reawakened from time to time, usually by a rewatch. 

But even as a kid I knew Hear My Song was a strange film. This story of the owner of a down-at-heel Liverpool club searching for Locke in an attempt to revive his own fortunes confused me then by not being what I expected - something like a standard old style Hollywood production. There's something quite dark about the first half of the film that frankly got under my skin as a kid in a way I didn't really like. For a start it had nudity in it (c'mon I was only little - it was a couple more years before I became utterly obsessed with Tara Fitzgerald's beauty), a hefty dose of cynicism, strange and near disturbing black and white flashbacks, a devilish fat man called Mr X who could produce white doves from nowhere, and two other fat guys performing a soft shoe shuffle in the street and looking straight to camera. Most worrying of all, even now, it had Mr X assault Shirley Anne Field's character - off screen perhaps, but we see the after effects; her shaken up, make up smudged and dreams shattered. How was this a knockabout comedy with song and dance? All the keen interest I had  seemed to be crushed in those first thirty minutes.

But like a cut-and-shut car (very 'popular' at the time with Watchdog style programmes) Hear My Song is two things welded together like a weird hybrid that frankly went over my head as a child. Because the second part, right up until the credits roll, is a wonderful piece of Irish whimsy and feel-good fun that leaves you with a big smile plastered across your face, a song in your heart and a spring in your step. It's like a completely different movie once Adrian Dunbar's club owner Mickey absconds to Ireland to find both Locke and redemption. Almost immediately the sun comes out on the film and we're in The Quiet Man territory, before the film delivers some of that glitzy, breezy, life affirming nostalgia I was searching for in the first place.

What I didn't realise as a child was that you needed both sides of the coin. Granted even now, the tonal shift can still jar quite a bit, but it is the kind of British grit, the peculiar and dark flavour, to Hear My Song's opening act that allows its conclusion to soar the way it does. This isn't like a Hollywood film because life isn't like a Hollywood film, but Chelsom, along with Dunbar who also co-wrote the screenplay as well as starred in it,  both knows and believes that we can occasionally experience a little bit of that upbeat, dazzling magic. 

It's that nostalgia that Mickey has been leeching off all his life, booking third-rate music hall acts, crooners and crummy impersonators of Frank Sinatra (billed as Franc Cinatra) and Josef Locke (Mr X - is he or isn't he?) in an attempt to get the punters into his failing club and make himself enough money. Mickey's in love with showbiz, but only for his own gains. He doesn't understand it, and therefore has no respect for it or its traditions. As a man who has pretty much snogged the face off the Blarney Stone, let alone kissed it, he talks the talk, but he does not walk the walk. All Mickey wants is the glamour, with his girl Nancy (Fitzgerald) on his arm - a girl he stupidly can't even say 'I love you' too. It's only when he's lost everything in the course of one night - the club, Nancy, his friends - and he trawls the Irish countryside on a tip off to Locke's whereabouts that he realises the true price of showbusiness and the importance of the past. This lesson is so touchingly conveyed in the scene where Locke (played by Ned Beatty) stands him outside the window of a dancing school one night. There in the room is a troupe of young girls performing traditional Irish folk dancing; "Do you want to be responsible for their dreams?" he asks the younger man. It's a wonderful moment, a scene which acknowledges that the kind of fame and appeal Locke earned from his adoring public came with a heavy burden, and it's captured beautifully by Chelsom who operated so well in this curious halfway arena of reality and dreams and fantasy.

With his lesson learned and the realisation that not only should music and the past be respected but so should his love of Nancy, Mickey returns to Liverpool with the reclusive Locke in tow ready to risk it all and perform one more time in an attempt to pick up the pieces of Mickey's life as well as his own. It transpires that Nancy's mother, played by Shirley Anne Field, is none other than Kathleen Doyle, a former teenage Blackpool beauty queen and conquest of his who, in 1958, helped Locke evade justice and make good his escape to Ireland. Thus the stage is quite literally set for the biggest comeback of a generation and Chelsom creates it beautifully with a direct line to his audience's feelings. It's a stirring climax to a small and offbeat film with a big heart.

The film boasts several fine performances from both its stars as well as its supporting character actors. It was a wise move of Chelsom's to place a character of his own creation at the heart of the film and Adrian Dunbar takes the challenge by the scruff of the neck and wrestles it convincingly to the ground. Ned Beatty, that fine supporting actor of many a big American movie, gets the rare opportunity to be a true star here as Locke and he doesn't disappoint. Granted, his Irish accent isn't perfect, but he looks the part and it's perhaps indicative of how larger than life Josef Locke really was that his shoes could only be filled by someone from Hollywood. Tara Fitzgerald may not have much in her role as the love interest - especially as she disappears once the action moves to Ireland and only returns in the final reel - but she displays her star quality in a way that belies her years and relative inexperience here and gives an authentic depiction of someone you could easily believe Dunbar's Mickey has come to realise he would move heaven and earth for - and she is of course gorgeous, which helps convince here too! Shirley Anne Field adds a real touch of class in a part that recalls her breakthrough performance in Tony Richardson's kitchen sink classic The Entertainer, whilst David McCallum nails the part of trenchcoat and fedora wearing policeman Jim Abbott who is determined to bring Locke to justice. There's also a truly wonderful score from John Altman that understands and accompanies the spirit of Chelsom's film. He would later do something very similar for the spiritually-alike Little Voice.

Since Hear My Song, I've often considered what became of Chelsom. He was a very distinctive and promising talent that was uniquely British. He had this great ability to cast 'faces', such as Mickey's lugubrious bouncers John Dair and Stephen Marcus (two hardworking character actors you'd never expect to see grace a film poster, but they did here!), William Hootkins, Harold Berens or any one of the Irish actors who star here as 'Jo's Boys', as well as mix old talent (Norman Vaughn) with new (You'll see James Nesbitt here in one of his earliest roles). Because of his Blackpool childhood, he clearly appreciated the traditions of showbusiness and the British stage and music hall - which was further witnessed by his follow up movie, Funny Bones - and had a keen sense of their history too. Much of Hear My Song is actually truthful (albeit in a stylised, exaggerated way) Locke really did evade paying his taxes and was forced to flee the UK to Ireland whereupon he was effectively a retired recluse. During this time, there really was a Mr X touring the club circuit who would neither confirm nor deny that he was the Josef Locke, and many of Locke's former lovers (and there were indeed many) actually came forward to claim that he was the real deal. With all this in mind, it's a real shame that Chelsom relocated to the US to turn out a string of disappointing films that culminated with a Hannah Montana movie. He deserved better, and I hope he gets it again one day.

Theme Time : Space - Cold Feet

After a break of thirteen years, ITV's hugely successful comedy drama series Cold Feet will be returning to out screens next Monday at 9pm.

The definitive late 90s and early 00s take on British thirtysomethings, Granada's Cold Feet was a big deal for me. Indeed, it was a big deal for everyone; a critical and ratings smash that regularly attracted around 10 million viewers every Sunday evening, it was nothing short of a cultural phenomenon with spin off merchandise including several books, script books, and soundtrack albums. Mike Bullen's drama starred James Nesbitt, Helen Baxendale, John Thomson, Fay Ripley, Robert Bathurst and Hermoine Norris as Adam and Rachel, Pete and Jenny, and David and Karen, three likeable, easily identifiable and sympathetic couples who struggled with issues like commitment, jealousy, sexual problems, and the work and life balance across five series from 1997 to 2003, capturing the zeitgeist of those years beautifully.

We can only hope that this new series is just as strong. It certainly looks set to be another big deal, certainly locally, as both Granada Reports and BBC's North West Tonight have broadcast items on this revival just this evening. It's a series that I think has a special place in the heart of the people of the North West, perhaps because it was the first TV show to depict Manchester as a truly modern, forward thinking city - the kind of depiction that was usually favoured only by London based drama. Gone were the stereotypes of whippets and flat caps, this was a positive depiction of young people in a genuinely metropolitan, bustling environment. 

In keeping with that sense of modernity, Cold Feet regularly showcased popular and contemporary music on the soundtrack to capture the mood of each episode and would go on to release several albums comprising of the tracks used. The show's theme tune was Female of the Species by the Liverpool indie band Space and was selected by producer Christine Langan when she happened to hear it on the Radio 1 Chart Show whilst attending the edit of the pilot episode.

The new series (which won't feature the lovely Helen Baxendale, as her character died in the final episode of series 5 and the actress turned down the offer of appearing as a ghost) will feature a new theme from Elbow's Guy Garvey and I Am Kloot's Peter Jobson.

Here's hoping the new theme, and the new series, is good!

Babylon (2014)

Discounting the Olympic Opening Ceremony, this was Danny Boyle's return to TV, his first since his two BBC plays from 2001, Strumpet and Vacuuming Completely Nude In Paradise.

Actually much like those two ventures, generally recognised as an attempt to get back to basics and to challenge himself after the big expectations of Hollywood ventures such as The Beach and A Life Less Ordinary, it could be argued that Babylon is serving the same purpose; a refreshing comedown after the highs of the Olympics.

It's a pleasing and indeed exciting partnership between him, Channel 4 and the scriptwriters Sam Bain and Jesse Armstrong (Peep Show, Four Lions, The Thick of It and Fresh Meat) Indeed much was made of   the The Thick of It angle, with reviewers proclaiming this to do for London's Metropolitan Police what that show had done for politics and government. It would be foolish not to point out the similarities; both shows focus firmly on the importance of PR and feature a rather useless overweight pen pusher - Ella Smith here, Joanna Scanlan in TTOI - and there's much talk of spin and cover up's getting out of hand in what is an effective satirical swipe, but that's largely where the similarities end. Babylon comes equipped with Boyle's trademark edginess and visual style (the inevitable mirror shot, his trademark, occurs) and veers close to straight and shocking drama on numerous occasions thanks to the plot device of a deranged sniper killing innocents on London's streets. In 90 minutes, Babylon had me laughing and staring open mouthed in shock - a potent combination.

There's perhaps more affection or perhaps just plain understanding to those it pokes fun at here than there ever was in The Thick Of It. It seems Boyle, Bain and Armstrong are taking great pains to point out they admire the police and are aware they're doing a very difficult job in a society that doesn't make it easy thanks to both internal and external pressures and expectations. What it doesn't hold back on however is the all out chaos each decision inevitably lands the characters in.

The cast is impressive with James Nesbitt  as the sensible but buffeted Chief Commissioner and Brit Marling is an American PR guru headhunted on a platform of honesty and transparency that will clearly be an uphill struggle from the off, but it's fair to say Jonny Sweet as Nesbitt's hapless acolyte stole many a scene right there in the middle of New Scotland Yard's HQ. Cheeky. Whilst Paterson Joseph once again proved what a strong actor he is with a neat straight down the line approach to comedy.  I also really liked the naturalistic acting of Jill Halfpenny and Cavan Clerkin as two sensible and weary bobbies paired well with the more cartoonish immature knucklehead played by Adam Deacon.   

It was announced tonight that Babylon will become a series later this year, and I for one look forward to that.

Welcome To Sarajevo (1997)

Reaching your teens is probably the time you start to become more globally aware, more politicised and more aware of the tragedies, injustices and the shitty end of the stick.  It was certainly that way for me was as a young teen in the early 90s when, perhaps the biggest wake up call for any youth to experience at that time, occurred; the Bosnian/Serbian conflict. This was a window to hell that lasted just over three years, it brought to the world terms like ethnic cleansing and the harsh reality of just what that means; torture, mass murder and war crimes, it all spewed forth into the living rooms of the UK and to my impressionable eyes thanks, in no small part, to ITN coverage from reporter Michael Nicholson.

Welcome To Sarajevo is based on Natasha’s Story by Nicholson himself. The book details his reporting of the war, his discovery of an orphanage with some 200 children existing precariously on the front line enduring shelling which had saw four dead already. Ultimately, Nicholson went from observing and commenting on the war to actively doing something heroic to make a change. Suspending his impartiality he pleaded to the authorities to evacuate the children only for his campaign to fall on deaf ears (''Evacuation is actually collaboration'' as one UN official puts it in the film ) As a result, Nicholson smuggled nine year old Natasha out of the country, claiming her as his daughter. Upon reaching Heathrow, he handed her over to immigration and, despite protest from Bosnian authorities, succeeded in adopting her, taking her into his already existing family and giving her a life in England. In the modern world where TV news coverage of wars occurring just a few hours on a plane, can leave viewers feeling disassociated and alienated, as if the events we witness are from another planet or somehow not real, this was an act that bridged the divide and hit home, capturing a nation's conscience and admiration.

The real Nicholson with Natasha, some years after her adoption

The film directed by Michael Winterbottom touched me just as deeply when it was released in 1997, however it is a loosely adapted version by Frank Cottrell Boyce of Nicholson and Natasha's story that takes some natural liberties  - I seem to recall the then in his 50s Nicholson professing Stephen Dillane who plays 'Michael Henderson' was far more attractive then he ever was and at 40, younger. 

Stephen Dillane as Michael Henderson, Nicholson in all but name

Winterbottom handles the story with great conviction, brutal realism and stylistic aplomb. Dropping in actual news footage between the 'fiction' showing the genuine after effects of shelling and mortar attacks may make for harrowing images, but it's purpose is valid in reminding you that this conflict was real.  That these things happened. Equally, the film is rightly powerful and steeped in authenticity for being filmed in the city itself, using real ruins and debris, with filming taking place just a few months after the war had ceased.  His use of soundtrack is very good too, placing hits of the day in amongst the action; the sight of  Goran Visnjic, running through the trenches of the battered and war torn city with water supplies to the sound of the Stones Roses 'I Wanna Be Adored' is a sequence that has remained with me for some time and no doubt will continue to do so, as indeed is the real footage scenes of  the leaders of The West claiming they can do nothing to truly help, interspersed with images from the siege of Sarajevo that cry out for help from surely even the coldest of hearts is  accompanied with much irony  Bobby McFerrin's 'Don't Worry Be Happy'. 

'I Wanna Be Adored'

Welcome To Sarajevo equally benefits from a cast who clearly were all on the same page and wanted to do justice to the project. No actor seems out of place, not even the Americans as cannily Winterbottom specifically casts a starry Woody Harrelson as the starry US war correspondent, Flynn. It never feels like stunt casting or something to appeal to the US audiences - though this US poster below does place emphasis on him with centre image and central billing

Stephen Dillane is brilliant, with a clear honest integrity and quiet determination at the film's core to the extent I'm still baffled as to why, even now, he's not a household name. He's ably assisted by Kerry Fox, James Nesbitt, Emily Lloyd and Goran Visnjic as his producer, cameraman, fellow reporter and driver respectively and by Marisa Tomei as an aid worker and Juliet Aubrey as his wife at home, but praise to must be given to Emira Nusevic, the local child actress in her only film, who plays Emira, the character inspired by Natasha. It's a performance that is unhindered by sentimentality thanks to Winterbottom's assured handling and belief in his audience finding their own emotive response to what he places on screen. In short this isn't some mawkish Hollywood mistreatment of the atrocity that manipulatively tugs at your heart strings. 

Emira, the film's Natasha

Welcome To Sarajevo is an important film that stands shoulder to shoulder with The Killing Fields in its depiction of horrendous 20th century conflicts through the eyes of the western world's journalists.  With the after effects of this war still ongoing; mass murderers like Ratko Mladić only being extradited to The Hague two years ago with his trial commencing last year,  and still appearing in the news only this week - with both Bosnia and Serbia finally making huge steps in terms of collaborating to get the staggering number of war crimes prosecuted correctly - this is still a film with something to say, and a message that hopes we will never have endure or witness such horror again.

Trying to make sense of the insensible

Match Point (2005)

Like a power tennis serve from out of nowhere, Woody Allen's Match Point was a somewhat unexpected hit and turn of events from the quintessential New York director. 

Of course, perhaps on reflection it wasn't so unexpected.  Following a glut of tepid efforts and downright flops from the late 90s through to the early 00s, it was clear Allen needed a shot in the arm and to try a different approach. His relocation to the UK certainly gave him that and a much needed modest hit to create a buzz for himself once more. 

However I must admit this new direction for some time failed to gel with me. I'm not sure why, after all it's not the first time Allen attempted a dark and immoral story (Crimes and Misdemeanors immediately springs to mind, and rightly so, as this is heavily redolent of it) perhaps it was the move to London or maybe the employ of young, vibrant and sexually charged characters in what is clearly a very steamy and torrid neo noir.

On a rewatch, Allen handles this latter aspect rather well; OK the cornfield in the rain scene is the kind of thing that only occurs on celluloid (certainly in Britain's freezing downpours!) but it has a sort of instant access into the memorable scenes hall of fame. This is of course thanks in no small part to his leads, Rhys Meyers and Johansson who are are let's face it both gorgeous with something for both sexes to enjoy. Even the cuckolded cheated elements of the ensemble, Matthew Goode and the divine Emily Mortimer are gorgeous. All this from little funny old puny wrinkled Woody?

Rhys Meyers inhabits the role the soulless, easily insincere social climber with ice in his veins scarily well, but having watched a similar morally bankrupt aspirational nowhere man this weekend (Jonathan Pryce's turn in The Ploughman's Lunch) I must admit to feeling spoiled by that film's more austure approach compared to Match Point's inherent tawdry noirish melodrama played out beneath suitably heavy London skies.

Nevertheless Allen's exploration of the themes of chance, fate and justice as well as the mirroring and debating of Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment (which Rhys Meyers character is seen reading in the film) is handled on the whole rather well and with some intelligent intrigue. Whilst the tennis analogy itself has a very satisfying pay off.

Just in case you forget at any time you're watching a Woody Allen movie there's inevitably a clunky heavy line of dialogue clanging around the corner to remind you whose behind the scenes. I love Woody Allen, but I've often remarked that no one really speaks like his characters do in the real world. Like any great wordsmith or lyricist, he has a peculiar beat of his own. In the New York intelligentsia dialect his idiom sometimes works just fine, it is always at its most accessible when in his own mouth or that of his oft leading ladies Diane Keaton, Mia Farrow etc.  But in the mouths of the British elite it is occasionally alien and scenes that shouldn't be, become unintentionally hilarious and stilted. 

Equally one thing I am still not convinced by is the pacing of the film. Unusually for Allen it's a full two hours and on occasions that does feel like a drag. The film builds very slowly and yet things of importance happen at an almost throwaway rate (specifically Rhys Meyers getting together with Mortimer and then Goode splitting from Johansson to get involved with one of the most one note, ill explored and vague characters in cinema history) And then there's the peculiarity of the film's last act. In the aftermath of Rhys Meyers violent actions, we get a selection of scenes that I'm still not wholly convinced work and do in fact feel jarring - namely the haunting (for want of a better word) and the sketchy role of the detectives played by James Nesbitt and Ewen Bremner, whose interplay really show up the failings of the lexicon in the film.

Overall opinion at the time was that Match Point was amazing, with Woody himself qualifying it as one of his 'A films'.  I'm still not sharing that opinion (indeed, though I'm a fan of Woody I always seem out of step with the critical acclaim; I didn't rate Midnight In Paris either for example and that's an unprecedented smash) but it has gone up in my estimations.

Coriolanus (2011)

This is a largely enjoyable modernisation of one of Shakespeare's timeless tragedies (I would say it's a generally lesser known or appreciated work yet I believe TS Eliot rated it higher than Hamlet no less) helmed by first time director Ralph Fiennes who equally and impressively takes centre stage before the camera as Coriolanus.

The film preserves the setting of Rome in all but name; it is clear that Fiennes is really concerning himself with the Bosnian conflict of recent years. With his Coriolanus and Brian Cox's Menenius mirroring the relationship of Arkan and Milosevic. The atmosphere and setting is truly gripping, the crumbling granite of war zones beneath grey portentous skies bearing witness to Shakespeare's original dialogue between moments of Black Hawk Down style action.

Despite there being much to enjoy there is also some truly head scratching judgements too, largely in the casting. I had heard reservations about the casting of James Nesbitt, but since his character, Sicinius, is meant to be a smug self promoting weasel I didn't see that as too much of a problem. No, my main complaint was casting Gerard Butler as the leader of the Volscians Aufidius - essentially representing the Bosnian rebels of that conflict - a one note actor whose presence cannot hope to match the incendiary performance from Fiennes and so their circling of one another always seems somewhat ill matched. Worse, his ever 'reliable' mangled vocal delivery does much to destroy and make incoherent both the text's subtle nuances and most powerful statements.

Still, there is far more reliable and staunch support from the likes of Vanessa Redgrave who is utterly jaw dropping as Fiennes mother, the aforementioned Brian Cox, Jessica Chastain, Paul Jesson, John Kani etc and even Channel 4's Jon Snow pops up - That was fun! I can well imagine this enlivening English lessons in schools up and down the country.