Golgot's Reviews

Four Lions

Drawing on realities like the UK's homegrown bombers, the haphazard attempts that followed, the shooting of an innocent in London, and countless other genuine horrors and twisted tautologies of 'anti terror' irony, this ladies and gents, is a comedy. And it's ****ing funny at times. Whether communicating grievances via the children's website 'Club Pelican', or lacerating each other with insults fitting of In The Loop (by ex-collaborator Ianucci), this bumbling boys-own terrorist group are a sight to behold. And crucially, the actors are strong enough to make it more than just an exercise in shooting lame ducks.

A man who thinks chickens are foolish rabbits without ears is clearly a fool. He's also a tragi-comic creation, who becomes more than just a cartoon character juggling comedy bombs, and joins the film in balancing on a razor's edge. That he goes on in the same scene to bond with his friend over their dedication to killing each other, should it be demanded, adds the emotional kick that frequently surfaces amongst this caustic froth. That he then gets helped to see heaven's reward as his favourite fun ride suitably combines the jibes at plastic society, outlandish religious interpretations, and other memes of happy meal 'banality of evil' that course irrepressibly throughout the film.

Morris manages to bring all his TV strengths to this feature-length directorial debut, just not perhaps the directorial panache to match his other talents. The guerilla style of some of the handheld moments robs both ad libs and set pieces of some of their punch, 'directing' the deliveries off into odd corners and muffling what is often inspired and funny stuff. There's all the discomfort of mores and morays (and yes 'Moors') being punctured, but vitally the humour doesn't just springboard us out of this world in cathartic escapism, it's there as an equal partner.

It's easy for a white Westerner to push through the nerves and join in the laughs, because the biggest bigot of the lot is a white rebel Islamic convert. But that's just the first invitation to take the rise out of a seemingly easy target, only for us to be reminded that serious veins of thought are being parodied. It's a classic switch-back display by trickster Morris. I'm not normally a fan of 'dumb funny', but by making this partially about unrestrained anger, paranoia, mental illness, and flat out passionate human tragedy, he's somehow made this hugely ambitious project work. It's a slightly flawed, but explosive treat. (Some might argue that Riz Ahmed is too human as the cell's leader, but there is some factual precedent, and the tragic bite of his story arc shows more than any how warm blood can't stop revenge being inherently cold to the bone).

++(+)

I have to start with the caveat that I haven't seen the standard Metropolis for years, so I can't distinguish all of the changes by any means. My main memories are of being astounded that a silent movie could look so good, tempered a bit by confusion at the sylph-like inconsistencies of character and plot.

All of that is clearly solved by the new patchwork version. The two Marias are now delightfully different (and Helm is physically and facially elastic at bringing both incarnations to life). The Thin Man adds a paranoid aside to a life lived between the two worlds, and I felt a bit more nuance was brought to the cumbersome 'mediator between head and hands' moral by all the bit part actors involved.

That said, it's now bum-numbingly long, and you can see why it was savaged down to a shorter cut. The scenes of Worker City flooding could have been almost halved, for example, and the initial build is somewhat slow. (You can't help but wonder whether it was the decision to fit the film to the fantastic motif-ridden score that caused some of this preponderance). This particular cut also has the unfortunate effect of taking you out of the visual vibe with the scratchy interpolated scenes, and what seemed to be still artwork for city vistas (contrasting with the novel shadow-cast use of artwork during the early lift descent, for example). Luckily the narrative music powers you through over time, filling in some of the jarring shifts and gaps. And much of the footage, old or new, is still vibrant and full of wonderful technique.

As a reveal of what the original story was meant to be, it's full of interest, and it still holds cinematic power aplenty, despite its length. There's no doubt I'll be revisiting the standard version again just to see how much the 'new' material is missed.

Seeing almost all the original cut with orchestration: +(+)
Seeing it with live orchestration: -

This film's high point comes when the alluringly 'fresh' cave paintings are allowed to speak for themselves, with the camera lingering on them accompanied by nothing but music & some play with light and time. For the rest of its run time the speculation of eccentrics forms something of an obscuring cloud. Herzog has unearthed some gems as always, but is also increasingly becoming one of them himself (wittering no end of speculative non-sequiturs about albino crocodiles and the like).

Still, a passionate, personal project which should speak to anyone who sees it. The 3D doesn't add a huge amount (other than accentuating the curves of the rock that the artists used to give shape & poise to the animals). I was slightly surprised that Herzog didn't take the scientists to task on their wilder speculations (as he did in Wild Blue Yonder), but as a corollory he left room for us to dream our own dreams about the people who intertwined bulls with pudenda, put leopards heads on statues, & crafted some very beautiful sights indeed.

(+) *Edited*