Spotlight: Movie review.


“I’m just a poor boy from a poor family” says one of the victims of systematically covered up child abuse by paedophile Priests in Boston “and when a priest pays attention to you, it’s a big deal. How do you say ‘no’ to God?”.

The victim might well have added, as I did, subconsciously, the paraphrased words of Freddie Mercury “spare me my life from this monstrosity.”

Because let’s make no mistake here.  This was a monstrosity.

The story is, on the surface, a journalistic procedural about the ‘exposing’ (no pun intended) of paedophile priests in Massachusetts (Boston specifically) by The Boston Globe’s ‘Spotlight’ tiny hit squad at the turn of the millennium.  The investigation is set into motion at the instruction of the ailing paper’s then Editor, Marty Baron, played with callous inscrutability by Liev Scriver.  It’s a  masterful performance.

Or at least that’s how the movie’s billed.  In actual fact it becomes a complete deconstruction of the ‘Three Estates’ and commentary on their deep rooted self protection; the clergy, the news industry, the legal sector, the monied are all systematically pulverised in Josh Singer and Tom McCarthy’s acid script.

No one comes out alive.

Including, tragically, many of the thousand and more victims of this institutionalised psychological ‘phenomenon’ that is peculiar to a significant minority (6% apparently) of the Catholic clergy, and it hasn’t just happened in Boston Massachusetts, but the first world over.

That’s why this film is so important, because as we bemoan the effect of islamic fundamentalism of the World order right now the Christian religion has been breeding just as insidious an evil, but from within and of its own, for decades (maybe, no probably, longer).

As the movie opens it quickly becomes apparent that Spotlight is a commercial indulgence in the context of falling newsprint sales and the fledgling ‘internet’ bringing with it, as it did, almost unlimited, free 24 hour news.  The new editor, with a reputation for cutting the workforce elsewhere, initially looks at Spotlight (a team of four) with skepticism.

They grow their stories at leisure and have an unhealthily parochial attitude towards them.  They look set for the chop until Baron learns of a retired priest who’s been exposed and thinks it’s a story for the Spotlight team.  Apart from eager beaver, Mike Rezendez (another magnificent performance by the chameleon-like Mark Ruffalo) they’re initially reluctant because they know the city ‘mafia’ (it’s strongly Catholic and protects its own) will not make the task easy and could, in fact, boycott the title if the accusations are distasteful.

The Spotlight team go for it with vigour.  The meat of the film gradually excavates the layers of deceit, and cover up, executed by the Archbishop, his cronies and the legal profession who carry out extensive, but not particularly elaborate, burial of evidence, misfiling of case reports and the turning of blind eyes; right left and centre.

The pollce are implicated (no, accused) the most senior judiciary (some of them also Catholic) subvert and seal important files.

Frankly, the whole thing sucks.

And then 9/11 strikes, suddenly the world’s eyes turn to Islam, including Spotlights’.

How ironic.

It’s a tragic intervention in many ways because the team is making real progress; extracting victim stories from grown men, mainly but not exclusively, that agree to tell their stories and closing in on the legal, clergy and city movers and shakers that are at the heart of the cover up.

But eventually the case resumes and we reach our inevitable and well publicised finale.

What Tom McCathy has achieved here is turn a movie into a fly on the wall docudrama, shot, as it is, in unglamorous fluorescent light for the most part.  The lead performances by Ruffalo, Rachel McAdams, Michael Keaton and John Slattery are selfless.  Spotlight is bigger than any of them.  (A special mention must also go to Stanley Tucci for playing the lawyer with a heart in an award worthy turn.)

The script is a whodunit of epic proportions and the content is both worthwhile and necessary; the sum is most certainly greater than the parts.

Praise to the real Spotlight team was ultimately massive (they won the Pulitzer prize for their efforts) but the impact it has had as it has resonated across not just the Boston Globe but its entirety makes this an effort of monumental proportions and the basis of a truly great movie that should win best picture at the 2016 Academy Awards.


Foxcatcher: Review.


OK I admit I am late to the party on this one but I missed Foxcatcher’s fairly limited release in the UK and have only finally viewed it on DVD.  But it was worth the wait.

It’s a uniquely paced thriller in that it’s almost plotless.  The dynamics and emotional drivers of all the main protagonists, two wresting brothers (Mark Ruffalo and Channing Tatum) and their errr ‘mentor’ (Steve Carell), are never revealed.  It’s sinister from start to finish but it’s never entirely clear why it’s sinister particularly if, like me, you don’t know the story that it’s based on.

But suffice it so say the direction by Bennett Miler (two Oscar nominations under his belt now for this and Capote) is outstanding and grips you from start to finish, despite the fact that very little of any consequence actually happens.

There’s an elephant in the movie theatre with this film.  And that is homosexuality.  Lots of men getting sweaty and grappling with one another on the floor is not the point.  It’s the unstated relationship between the two main characters that is.

Is the relationship between billionaire wrestling freak Du Pont and Schwartz homosexually charged?  Maybe yes, maybe no.  Du Pont may wish to be seen as a father figure but it goes much deeper than that in my view.

Is the drug taking and drinking that Du Pont introduces to his Olympic Gold medallist charge some form of seduction?  Maybe yes, maybe no.

Is the relationship that Du Pont ‘enjoys’ with his mother also related to his sexuality (Oedipal almost)?  Maybe yes, maybe no.

Certainly it has enraged the real life Schwartz who clearly is not in any way inclined to the male sex but that’s not the point.  Miller has created a movie that is undeniably homo-erotically charged and that is not in any way a criticism.

The movie is a beautiful enigma wrapped up in a conundrum and all the better for it.

But ultimately what you are left with is the extraordinary performances of Tatum and, especially, Carell in a career defining outing that will surely be hard for him to beat.

And one last point; the outstanding soundtrack by Rob Simonsen is a pretty fundamental contribution to the whole mood of the piece.

The kids are alright

I saw this wonderful movie today at the end of its run. So nothing I say will be news to anyone.

I guess it’s not really broken through because it’s hardly what one could call cine-fashionable.  (Apparently it is the first movie ever made about a lesbian marriage in Hollywood.)

That’s interesting because the territory is ripe for humour and pathos in equal measure. And that opportunity is grasped with both hands by writer/director Lisa Chodolenko who frankly appears from nowhere.

She is aided and abetted by a stunning cast. Julianne Moore is magnificent as the “wife” to Annete Benning’s refreshingly unmacho bull dyke dad, both of whom are mom’s to Joni (Mia Wasikowska, last seen in Alice in Wonderland as Alice) and Laser (yes, I know).

I never said this was gonna be easy.

When the kids decide to track down who co created them through their lesbian mom’s Cryobank records they find a Dad that’s cool, sexy and life changing.

Mark Ruffalo has surely never been better in a role that he clearly loves – most particularly when rigorously reintroducing Julianne Moore to the delights of the male body for sexual satisfaction.

The fact that Moore, at 44, is willing to get down and dirty, freckles (millions of them), unfashionable red hair (by Hollywood standards) and all just shows what a great actress she is.

The film gradually develops from light comedy into really insightful and moving reflections on the meaning of family in an ever changing and disposable universe

It’s class.

And the relevance of lesbianism?

None really.

It’s just about families, marriage and the unbearable toughness of being.

I found it very inspiring.