16/20/2019 6:35pm

It says a lot about cinema today that an opening montage featuring a man putting on a face-full of clown makeup before smiling forcefully at himself in a mirror, could very well be the most captivating silver screen moment of the year. There’s nothing flashy about the audience’s introduction to Joker (2019). There’s no explosions or gunfire. No well-timed comedic notes to hit. Just a painful, slow-burn look at humanity. One that’s perfect in its simplicity. Ironic really, given that one of the industry’s top directors, Martin Scorsese, used the same week as the DC origin flick’s release, to come out and trash films within the genre, claiming they aren’t “the cinema of human beings trying to convey emotional, psychological experiences.” Ironic, because that’s exactly what Todd Phillips’ first foray into this world is – a gripping, complex and highly affecting look at how we are all just one bad day away from becoming someone we never thought we could be.

Designed as a standalone piece within the extended Warner Bros. superhero universe, Joker (2019) follows the story of Arthur Fleck, a rent-a-clown performer who spends his days dancing with signs outside rundown businesses or trying to bring laughter to sick children at the local hospital. It’s a dreary world he lives in, stuck in a city that’s crumbling around the lower classes, while the rich get richer on their false promises and giant rats roam the streets as literal incarnations of such hypocrisy. His social life isn’t much better either, seen as little more than a loner that still lives with his mother, and hindered by a condition that sees him burst out in uncontrollable laughter at the most inappropriate of times. Having always been told he was put on this earth to make others smile, Arthur is eager to try his hand at stand-up comedy, but after a series of unfortunate events sees him lose his job, his dignity and even his morality, seemingly small fractures begin to open up into giant chasms, and the devastating effects of society’s inability to care, make him into a symbol he never intended to become. 

Captivating and uncomfortable, as it should be, Joker (2019) asks us to question not what it takes to become a madman, but how such characters can so easily slip through the cracks when society lets down its most vulnerable. See, there’s a fine line between making an audience feel sympathetic towards a character and calling them a hero, and you’re never uncertain with Joker (2019). Arthur is not someone to applaud or admire; his violent, bloody actions launch us back to reality just as we begin to feel sorry for him. One can understand and even feel regretful towards his situation, but never at the decisions he makes in response. There’s been a lot of critical opinions on whether a film centred on the actions of, what one could clearly argue is an incel, will insight others. But then again, any piece of art, news, or propaganda could do the same. And what Joker (2019) teaches us, more importantly, is that we must come at things from a personal level, not just an institutional one. Mental illness is prevalent in society and needs to be addressed better, but mental illness alone does not drive people to commit horrible acts. Stopping people from feeling shut-out, abandoned and ignored is just as crucial.

Phoenix’s performance here is perhaps the best of his career, which is no hard feat considering his turns in Walk The Line (2005), The Master (2012) and Her (2013). Nothing feels stale or re-used from other incarnations of the character, and while it would be unfair to compare his version with that of the late, great, Heath Ledger’s, there’s no denying the Aussie would have been proud. His laugh is at once both menacing and maniacal, as well as so very pained. And as Arthur begins to garner acknowledgement from those around him, stepping out from the shadows, there’s a glorious transformation in the energy and charisma Phoenix imbues. In saying that, he certainly has a stellar supporting cast to bring out his best, with Robert De Niro going toe-to-toe with him as smarmy, talk-show host Murray Franklin, and Frances Conroy shining as Penny Fleck in the small moments she shares with her son. At the end of the day though, it’s Phoenix’s movie, and like his namesake he rises from the ashes, from the first haunting scene, to the burning, soft glow of the last. If he doesn’t take home the Oscar, or at least a nomination, then Hollywood needs to have a long, hard look at itself.

Visually, the film is just as strong. With a relatively low budget (less than $55 million, including advertising), Phillips relies heavily on the physical, leaving the CGI to the superheroes. Warm, rich tones roll across the screen, lulling the audience into Arthur’s world. And don’t be fooled – it’s all about his vision of things – the colours popping more vibrantly as he comes to find his, albeit destructive, place in it. The costumes paint a similar picture too; the sharp, angular blue triangles around the anti-hero’s eyes setting the scene more than any clown before. There’s a style and flair to the character from his outfit, something the DC villain has always had. And it flows from the physical to the political aspects of film - this version so strikingly real that it’s easy to forget you’re watching fiction. Not a single decision has been taken lightly here, from tone to lighting, score to nuance, and it really shows. So rare is it that we are gifted a movie that is as beautiful as it is disturbing and gritty. 

Leaving the theatre, it’s hard not to have more questions than answers when it comes to Joker (2019). But for once, that seems to be a good thing. Contrary to what we would like to believe, bad people aren’t born that way. Villains are made. And sometimes, that means their creation can also be prevented. I mean, how many times has society heard from people who have said they “haven’t been happy one minute of their entire fucking life”. Or arrogant assholes that claim: “those of us who have made something of our lives will always look at those who haven’t and see nothing but clowns.” So where does the buck stop? When do we decide to listen and act, rather than ignore? Because just like the titular character’s derided joke, by the time the film gets to its punchline, nobody is laughing. Instead, a nervous tickle begins to rise at the back of our collective throats as we begin to realise, sometimes, we are all part of the problem.

Rating: 4.5 Joker Cards out of 5

05/07/2019 7:01pm

If Avengers: Endgame (2019) was a stab to the collective Marvel fandom’s heart, then Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019) is the glimmer of hope that’s been left in its wake. With the world still reeling from a chaotic five-year time jump and the death of billionaire tech wiz Tony Stark, the question on everybody’s lips going into the final film of phase three is just what are the consequences of a post-snap, post-Thanos world? Well, if the first of two post-credits scenes are anything to go by, the phrase ‘go big or go home’ pretty much covers it. An action-packed sequel that not only stands on its own two feet, but as one of the best web slinging entries to date, Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019) delivers answers in droves, albeit not necessarily the ones viewers may want. Full of fantastical CGI sequences, dizzying displays of destruction and just enough angsty teenage romance to make things interesting without diverging into cliché, it’s hard not to like Spidey’s sophomore outing. Especially when the heart of the film falls so hard on identity, and a very modern, renewed take on what it means to be a hero. Even dead, their legacy lives on.

As the title suggests, Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019) takes place abroad, with Peter Parker and his class thrust into danger after heading off on a science trip across Europe (not that we ever see the students engaging in anything chemistry, biology or physics related though – think itineraries full of art museums and trips to the opera instead). Picking up eight months after the cataclysmic events of the third snap and everyone’s eventual return, it sees Peter, having lost his mentor and to a lesser extent his way, trying to take a break from the superhero game to go off gallivanting around Italy and Paris. Par for the course with our friendly webslinger though, things soon take a turn for the deadly, as ‘elemental’ beasts start popping up in the canals of Venice and the streets of Prague. And so, in comes Nick Fury to hijack Peter’s vacation and task him and his parallel-world ally, Mysterio, with stopping the creatures from destroying civilisation as we know it. Everything ends up culminating in a stylish showdown on London’s Tower Bridge, but not before bodies are bruised, twists are turned topsy turvy and many a quotable quip exchanged.

Pitched as the ‘official’ conclusion to Marvel’s mighty Infinity War Saga, it’s not until the first post-credit’s scene of Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019) that the reason for this truly becomes evident. Until then, it’s hard to argue that the aftermath of ‘the blip’ (note: the snap, the decimation, the dusting etc.) couldn’t have simply been dealt with in the first instalment of the studio’s new era. Tony’s death, the search for a new Iron Man, and the world’s acclimatisation to the influx of other-worldly friends and foes are all pivotal themes, yes, but after the high-tension of Avengers: Endgame (2019), it almost feels somewhat of a letdown to have this be the final moments of such a sweeping and epic series. That is, until the story takes a gut-punching left turn in its final moments, reminding us just how far the comic-book giants are willing to go with their cinematic universe. And while it sets up big changes and plenty of drama for the next ten years of MCU madness, one can’t help wonder that no matter how good it is, Endgame will always overshadow it. 

As far as familiar faces go, majority of Spider-Man: Homecoming’s (2017) ensemble cast return for part two – with an explanation about any niggling concerns regarding their failure to have aged given in a fun student made video. Tom Holland’s Peter Parker is his usual quirky and cute self, despite the weight of the world being on his shoulders, and his interactions with Zendaya’s MJ only seem to get better as time goes on. However, this does lead to a lack of really funny double act moments with Jacob Batalon’s best-bud character Ned, the pair’s friendship instead replaced in part by their respective romantic infatuations. As for the supporting roles, Angourie Rice’s Betty Brant plays the soppy, saccharine girlfriend, with great aplomb, and Tony Revolori is as entertaining as ever as Flash Thompson. But it’s Martin Starr’s Mr. Harrington as the group’s teacher that brings the real laughs. Because for every continued annoying mention of witches his fellow instructor – J.B.  Smoove’s Mr. Dell – gives, the former provides real moments of heart-warming humour. From trying to take a selfie, to declaring ‘thank God you’re not dead’ upon seeing Peter, he’s the neurotic, overbearing educator we’ve all had at least once in our lives.

Meanwhile Marisa Tomei’s Aunt May is finally given a meatier part in the sequel, with her own hilarious quasi-romantic relationship with Jon Favreau’s Happy Hogan established. Bringing back Tony’s quick-witted chauffeur might seem a little on the nose to some fans, but there’s something wonderful about having someone from the MCU’s very first instalment there at its concluding one. Especially as he was the director that started it all. Joining the old crew are a few new faces too, with Jake Gyllenhaal perfectly cast as the enigmatic Quentin Beck / Mysterio, a hero who quite literally swoops in to save the day, but one that might hold more in common with his comic-book counterpart than the trailers wholesome image suggests. He relishes the role, spending the first half as a stand-in mentor and the second gleefully peeling back the many layers to his character. Lastly, rounding things out, Samuel L. Jackson and Cobie Smulders are also onboard as everyone’s favourite super-spy duo Nick Fury and Maria Hill, although you’ll want to stay for the second post-credits scene to see the true impact of their presence.

Suffice to say, despite the glory it has been receiving online from critics and fans alike, Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019) is not quite the knock-out it could have been. The first half is pinned down in emotion dialogues and poor pacing. And there’s a hint of sadness when you realise, you’re watching the first Marvel movie without a beloved cameo from Stan Lee. But once the second half kicks into gear, it’s a wicked and mind-bending ride. One that lightens the mood from all the darkness we’ve been subject too lately, both on screen and off. It’s a box office blockbuster to enjoy with friends. A little escape from reality. Some might even call it… a vacation. 

Rating: 4 Jet-Setting Locations out of 5

24/04/2019 7:00pm

They say that part of the journey is the end. And so, here we are folks. Eleven years in the making. Twenty-one films in the lead-up. And half a universe to save. Honestly, there are plenty of ways one can describe the epic concluding chapter that is Marvel’s Avengers: Endgame (2019). Astonishing. Heart-breaking. Mind-boggling. Emotional. A masterful moment in cinematic history. All of these are true. And yet none of them feel quite right. Because for fans of the series – the ones who cheered with glee as Tony Stark announced he was Iron Man back in 2008, and who felt their hearts sink as Steve Rogers dropped his shield almost a decade later – there aren’t really words to sum up a film like this. I mean, what do you say about a movie that is the perfect end to an era? So, sitting down to write this review, it’s hard not to feel a little like I’m delivering a eulogy at a close friend’s funeral (and don’t kid yourselves here people, you better prepare for this film like it is one). Because like most of us tasked with the impossible job of compiling something so grand into nothing more than a few snapshots and anecdotes, I’ll always be left wondering whether it will be enough. Or if there’s simply no way to describe how a series of fictional characters can become our family, and their story, ultimately, break our hearts. 

It must be said, therefore, that there’s no playing by the rules when it comes to this critique. Those expecting a juicy, spoiler-filled breakdown will be sorely disappointed. You see, part of what makes Avengers: Endgame (2019) so powerful and moving, is going into it as blind as possible. Directing duo, Joe and Anthony Russo, have worked painstakingly hard to achieve this – releasing notes calling on fans not to ruin it for others and composing the trend-worthy hashtag #dontspoiltheendgame to nail the point home. But perhaps the biggest argument comes from the studio itself, with the behemoth having ensured that ninety per cent of the footage used in the marketing material and trailers is from just the first half-hour of the film. They want the surprises to fall thick and fast. And they want it to hurt when they do. So, all you can do is buckle in for the ride and try and stay content in the knowledge that it will be worth it in the end. Three-thousand times over. 

Not that it will be a short trip, mind you, with the final cut of the film coming in at just over three hours. It’s a doozy, for sure, but one that manages to pace itself rather well. Unlike its predecessor – Avengers: Infinity War (2018) – this picture works off the theory of thirds, with the first hour delving into the aftermath of the decimation and the toll it takes on those left behind, the second focusing on formulating a plan to reverse it, and the last, and arguably best portion, seeing the team enact their strategy in one final blockbuster brawl. Unsurprisingly, time travel plays a significant role in this master design. However, its best not to look to deeply at it, lest you unravel the many plot-holes that abound. Simply enjoy it for the plot device it is, and the hilarious Back To The Future (1985) references it inspires.

Character-wise, there’s no denying this is the original six’s story, and it’s wonderfully fitting to see them finally come full-circle. Hawkeye, who has been MIA since Captain America: Civil War (2016), is at last given his dues as an integral member of the team, while his secret-spy counterpart and best-friend Black Widow is on top form, crushing fans hearts in even her smallest, peanut-butter-sandwich-eating moments. In contrast, Bruce Banner manages to somewhat reconcile his dual personality, as Thor (and his new look) delightfully settles into his niche as the comic relief. But who would the Avengers be without their leader, Captain America, and their founding father, Iron Man? So, if it’s anyone’s film, it’s theirs. The two play wonderfully off each other, as they have in every other outing, bringing truckloads of heart, humour and humanity to the piece. Sure, it’s a delight to see Captain Marvel in full heroic swing, and Ant-Man laying down quips left, right and centre. But you’ll never quite get another dynamic, like these six have shared, again. 

As for the spectacle of the film, it’s hard to knock it, especially as the rousing final act begins. But there’s nothing really new about explosions and battles, regardless of their scale and ferocity. The true mark of Avengers: Endgame (2019) therefore is in reminding us that a hero isn’t made by defeating bad-guys, but from being willing to lose everything in the process. Captain America can say he can ‘do this all day’, but if he really did, there’d never be any stakes to fight for, right? And Iron Man can be a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, but what use are all those titles if he doesn’t do something good with them? Aren’t all heroes, somewhat human? And isn’t that the thing that connects them to us? The reason we keep coming back, time and time again? Not the action. And not the spectacle. Even if it the latter includes the most badass scene of women running into a blazing field to support each other, that’s ever been put to camera. 

So, how do you do a film like this justice then? Pay dutiful homage to the hundreds of moving parts that went into it, while simultaneously safeguarding a ‘spoiler free’ experience for others? Honestly, no reviewer will. Because, quite simply, Avengers: Endgame (2019) is more than just a bunch of actors reciting lines as CGI battles blast across screens. It is an event. An experience. A feeling. One that rises from deep within and makes you wonder how you’ve never seen it before. All the eloquence in the world can’t explain that. It can’t describe why when we talk of the film’s fallen character’s we’ll call them our brothers in arms. Or why when we speak of its villain, he will be our mutual enemy. It can’t explain why the blood, sweat and tears that were poured into this franchise don’t seem to just belong to the cast and crew. And why the years of anticipation weren’t simply designed to bring in billions at the box office. It’s the long-goodbye you wish you didn’t have to say. But are so damn happy you got.

Rating: 6 Original Avengers out of 6

31/03/2019 5:07pm

Movies based on books are nothing new. Neither are teen romances. Or stories about the fragility of life. Even after rolling all three categories into one, at least a dozen recent titles still spring to mind. So, going into Five Feet Apart (2019), the latest addition to this ever-growing subgenre, it’s easy to wonder what else it could possibly offer. Unfortunately, aside from a quirky hook about its leads being unable to get close enough to touch each other, the answer is, quite frankly, not that much. Sure, there’s sparks of humour here and there. And a decidedly heart-wrenching finale. But it is incredibly frustrating to see the film’s key takeaway, of humanising a genetic condition that affects more than 70,000 people worldwide, come through in little more than sparse moments interspersed between a clunky start and a rushed, soap-opera style third act. 

In saying that, those looking for a stock standard teenage romance, full of pretty protagonists and just enough hints at a terrible tragedy ready to befall them, will find Five Feet Apart (2019) a figurative goldmine. The story follows young cystic fibrosis sufferer Stella Grant as she navigates both her disease and a newfound friendship with fellow CF patient Will Newman. Because of their sickness, the pair must always stay six feet apart, lest they inadvertently share their bacteria and infect one another. But despite the fact that Will is infected with B. cepacia, a drug-resistant strain that, should it be transferred to Stella, could risk her chance at any potential lung transplants, the pair soon fall for each other. Because what sort of movie would it be if everyone played by the rules, right? So, the pair bond over medicine-taking techniques, gym sessions and late-night swims, with Stella eventually deciding the only way for her to take back some control and any chance at connection, is to steal back as many inches between them as she can. But when every moment is borrowed time, it’s not long before the couple are made to question whether a relationship built to fail can survive in the long run.

As far as the acting goes, Haley Lu Richardson and Cole Sprouse do their best to bring warmth and authenticity to their characters. And for the most part they seem to cultivate a genuine connection. But despite such efforts, it is hard to read Stella and Will as anything other than stuck, running down the clock on an ending most audience members can see a mile off. It’s not all doom and gloom though, with some of the film’s more touching moments coming across in the depiction of regular CF life – such Stella’s blogging and room decorating – which not only raise awareness of the titular disease but also emphasize the loneliness it begets. Rarely do deliveries of such medical issues remain thoughtful rather than sanctimonious. Similarly, an understated performance from former Hannah Montana (2006) star Moises Arias as Stella’s best-bud Poe helps ground things, especially as the music montages kick in. 

A glossy young adult production, realism is the true detractor for Five Feet Apart (2019). For example, while we are given the opportunity to meet Will and Stella’s parents (albeit briefly and not by name), there’s never any significant inclination into how they, or for that matter the doctors and nurses too, cope with the children’s sicknesses. Where are all the visitors coming to see them? The forms needing to be filled in? Or the hospital-run programs providing them with something productive to do during their stay, like homework? No, instead, the teens are apparently given free reign through-out the hospital, jetting about on skateboards, hosting frivolous dinners in the back rooms of the cafeteria, and literally walking around on the roof’s edge. Then again, it’s hard to expect anything better from scriptwriters who somehow think regular teen talk includes profound and poetic dialogue, along with plenty of ‘staring into the distance’ moments. 

Now, there’s been a lot of talk about the film’s use of Cystic Fibrosis as little more than a plot point. And while I can’t say it’s not true, it’s hard to argue that this is something new for Hollywood. How many times have we seen cancer trotted out in the same vein to bring two stricken teens together a la The Fault In Our Stars (2014), Now Is Good (2012) and My Sister’s Keeper (2009). But unlike the pictures that have come before it, there is a danger that lurks below the surface of Five Feet Apart (2019). Because any patient with CF knows that pushing the boundaries and ‘stealing back just a few inches’ can be deadly. So yes, we must agree that, at best, it’s romanticising of this idea seems inherently wrong, and at worst, it might even present perilous consequences. But then again, treating movies like documentaries doesn’t do anyone any good. Otherwise you could claim there’s risk in showing anything on screen. 

Above all else, Five Feet Apart (2019) is a portrait in intimacy between two people who can’t touch. And as intriguing as that concept sounds, it’s also infuriating. Because as much as you want to sit there and say that there is nothing romantic in stealing someone’s future away from them, the fact still remains that you can’t choose who you love. Is this a new concept? Not really. But an exciting one to explore? Sure. The true deciding vote though lies in whether such a picture is worthy enough to dedicate two hours of your life too. And for us, as formulaic and annoying as it is, it is still somewhat of a breathe of fresh air. 

Rating: 3 Lungs out of 5

08/03/2019 1:45pm

As soon as the MCU’s famed opening banner hits the screen, it’s easy to tell that Captain Marvel (2019) is an important film. It would be naive to say this feeling comes simply from the movie being the megalith’s first female-led flick. Or because its protagonist is widely considered to be the billion-dollar franchise’s most powerful character. No, it’s more than that. Because despite the labels, expectations and agendas at play behind the scenes here, there’s one thing Marvel couldn’t predict about this blockbuster. And that is the legacy this picture upholds, innately though that may be, as the studio’s first film shown following the passing of comic-book creator Stan Lee. It is important because of all the features that could have found themselves in this position, it wound up being this one. A movie about a young woman who gets knocked down, time and time again, and refuses to give up. A woman who’s resolve is to go higher, further and faster. A woman who represents exactly what Mr Lee’s motto Excelsior means – upward and onward to greater glory. 

That being said, a lot of what Captain Marvel (2019) delivers isn’t exactly original. Plot-wise we have a soldier sacrificing themselves. An underdog obtaining special powers. A superhero losing their memory. And a classic good-guy, bad-guy twist dominating the entirety of act three. Repetition is an unfortunate by-product of comic books (Carol Danvers has been appearing in issues since the 1960s, after all) but that doesn’t mean cinemagoers are willing to accept the same thing. I mean, there’s a reason Rotten Tomatoes makes it’s living off what’s considered “fresh”. Furthermore, it’s hard to get past the fact that the entire first half of the film meanders through unnecessary exposition and chase scenes, all-the-while stumbling over what little humour it does bother delivering. However, when the movie finally does takes off in part three, boy does it fly. There’s explosions and quick-witted quips aplenty, giving the filmmakers some sort of attempt at redemption before the credits roll. And in a praise-worthy move that is rarely seen in blockbuster’s these days, there’s no love story being shoved down audiences’ throats. Not even a hint of one. 

It also needs to be noted that while Marvel are great at taking chances with their properties and filmmakers, such as with Guardians of the Galaxy (2014) and Thor: Ragnarok (2017), it is painful to see them turn down an opportunity to make this – such a prominent piece in their portfolio – less than the kick-ass, all-female-driven production it could have been. Yes, the writer’s team is largely made up of women. And yes, Anna Boden is one half of the team in the director’s chair. But part of what made DC’s first female film, Wonder Woman (2017), so exquisitely good was that it was helmed solely by Patty Jenkins. There’s power in a decision like that, whether you admit it or not. And, perhaps if Marvel had stuck with a single director their latest offering would have wound up less disjointed too, with everything from its humour to its timing always coming across just a little off. Because while its script may be dotted with Easter eggs for the fans, there’s little fun to be had from it.

​As for the casting, Brie Larson’s selection has been a contentious one ever since the early days of production, with concerns she lacks the emotional depth needed to make Danvers superhero sympathetic. And despite her Academy Award-winning talent it’s a fair assessment, with the actress struggling throughout the film’s first hour before finally finding her footing just the curtain’s about to fall. It’s telling, though, that Marvel don’t seem too concerned about her ability to carry the Avengers films moving forward, with the studio going so far as to provide their own tongue-in-cheek reference to those who asked why she was “not smiling” enough, in a sardonic moment at around the thirty-minute mark. As for the others, Samuel L. Jackson gives a dynamic performance as a young Nick Fury, but after nine appearances in the role you’d expect nothing less. And Ben Mendelsohn is equally as fantastic in his part as antagonist Talos, providing one of the best additions to the series in years. There’s great humanity and humour to be found under his colossal make-up and costuming. As far as scene-stealer’s go though, there’s no passing Goose, a cat whose powers extend well-beyond simply being the cutest of the cast members.

The retro-stylings of the film are something critics have also been hotly debating and interestingly on this issue it’s harder to come down on one side or the other. Marvel pitched the movie as a nineties-centric piece and it’s certainly that, with pointed references to the horrendously slow systems of Windows 95 computers and the dead artform that was VHS. But it almost feels like we’re always on the periphery of what that era was. There’s dribs-and-drabs of pop culture littered throughout, from mentions of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air (1990) to classic grunge fashion (leather and plaid anyone…) But there’s not a lot of emphasis on other, bigger issues, like woman taking their first-steps forward in male-centric fields. And don’t even get me started on the lack of slang from that time (where’s the hey dude’s and the that’s so fly’s?) Fans can take solace in the musical choices, however, because there’s plenty of top nineties tracks to go around. Nirvana’s Come As You Are makes its mark, as does a well-timed dose of Just A Girl from No Doubt.

While it may be a boring production for the first 60 minutes and a busy one for the second, it would be amiss to label Captain Marvel (2019) flat or a failure. It’s simply a superhero film that is a little off kilter. Unlike the origin flicks that have come before, the filmmakers are beginning to be wary of showing us all the insecurities and personal problems of our protagonists, less they give away too much for future instalments. And while we would love to know more about why Carol hated her father or what the full extent of her powers are, this is not and never was going to be the film for those questions. Instead, this picture is the one designed to tell girls to believe in themselves. To remind them it’s okay to stop looking for approval. To push themselves onwards and upwards to greater glory, regardless of the damn naysayers. And we think Stan would be proud.

Rating: 3.5 Gooses out of 5

22/01/2019 5:32pm

There’s no arguing that superhero films are practically a dime-a-dozen these days. Whether it be the ever-increasing instalments from the sweeping Marvel Cinematic universe, DC’s attempts to forge-ahead with their own dramatically dark cosmos, or Fox’s sometimes lacklustre yet sometimes hilarious offerings. We certainly aren’t short of flicks that tread the same, familiar ground of awesome action sequences and climactic CGI battles. But every now and then though we get an offering like Glass (2019). A film that delves a little deeper into the genre. Behind the lens of good versus evil and right versus wrong. A movie that questions how the genre itself came to be born. And one that asks us to consider whether we’re all heroes, albeit in our own stories.

The conclusion of a trilogy that began with Unbreakable (2000) and was tenuously held together by Split (2016), M. Night Shyamalan’s Glass (2019) picks up right where its predecessor left off – with Kevin Wendell Crumb and his personalities, including The Beast – on the run. This time four young girls have gone missing, and it’s up to David Dunn, aided by his now grown-up son Joseph, to save the day - the former guard having thrown off the reluctance of his younger years and turned full-blown vigilante. After a showdown in an old factory the pair wind-up in a psychiatric facility, where the mysterious Doctor Ellie Staple tries to convince them, as well as fellow patient Elijah Price, that their ‘powers’ are no more than easily-explained trauma, illness or delusion. But this is Shyamalan, so expect things to get weird and twisty before the credits start rolling.

To a degree the movie is somewhat worthy of the praise enamoured fans have been bestowing upon it. However, it is clearly not without its flaws. For starters it tends to drag. While the first and last quarters of the film gallop along in a wave of adrenaline and tension, popping between personalities in the fun and chaotic way Split (2016) did, the entire middle section seems to pay unnecessary homage to the stylings of Unbreakable (2000). There are never-ending long, pensive looks from Bruce Willis, piles of pointless dialogue telling us things we can clearly already see, and too much time spent keeping the character’s separated instead of using the incredible talents of its A-list ensemble. Honestly, if Shyamalan’s point was to make us, the audience, feel like we too were trapped in the psych ward, then he certainly made it. Because after spending more than two-hours waiting for a goddamn pay-off, by the time it comes around we’re too tired to really care. 

Stylistically it’s a knock-out though. We’re back to the straightforward yet stylish colour co-ordination of characters. Green for David Dunn’s Overseer, yellow for The Beast and purple for Mr Glass. Even the homes, workplaces and supporting characters imbue the same tones throughout, emphasising that everything, through to the finest of details, has been carefully considered and planned. Similarly, unlike Marvel and DC’s offerings, when the heroes and villains flex and fight here, it’s impossible to tell which moments are CGI and which are simple practical effects. It’s seamless and points to why, even after so many flops, Shyamalan is still going strong. After all, this is a man who managed to convince two of the biggest competing studios in Hollywood – Disney and Universal – to bring their separate properties of Unbreakable (2000) and Split (2000) together. 

The glue that holds the film together though isn’t Shyamalan, but rather the impressive and outstanding work of James McAvoy. Pushing the boundaries even further on his Dissociative Identity Disorder character of Kevin Wendell Crumb, the Scot presents us with 20 different personalities this time round, each with distinct voices, movements, facial expressions and backstories. It would be a lot for any actor, but he pulls it off with aplomb, providing majority of the film’s light-hearted, tension-breaking moments. He is backed by a solid cast too, including veterans Bruce Willis and Samuel L. Jackson. While the former is his same surly self, the latter is disappointingly utilised, barely uttering a line or a facial twitch for first half the film. What is nice though, is to see the return of three prominent supporting characters and how their relationships have evolved in respect to the ‘main three’. Spencer Treat Clark’s Joseph has developed an endearing and often times comedic connection with his father, while Charlayne Woodard still brings the same sympathy and strength to Elijah’s mother. Anya Taylor Joy too brings much needed emotion in connecting with The Beast. The only one to truly falter is Sarah Paulson’s doctor, thanks to a limited backstory and mountains of meandering dialogue.

So, is Glass (2019) a great film? No. Not by a long shot. Frankly, it feels somewhat akin to the literal train wreck that opened the trilogy. But, just like that moment, it is also hard to look away. Because we want answers. We want twists. And we want to hope that superhero movies can be thought-provoking pieces as well as CGI smash-ups. And while Glass (2019) probably isn’t the one to provide it, if the closing moments are anything to go by though, it certainly sets to the scene for such future endeavours. Because sometimes the villain is good. Sometimes the monster is a protector. And sometimes the hero is the inspiration for someone to believe in themselves.

Rating: 2.5 Head Tilts out of 5

03/09/2018 6:52pm

Arguably one of the greatest parts of Crazy Rich Asians (2018) is its rather tongue-in-cheek opening scene. The humorous prologue sees Eleanor Young, her sister-in-law Felicity and their two children Nick and Astrid, arrive sopping wet at a London hotel hoping to check into one of its more prestigious suites, only to be turned away. It’s a crucial moment that forms the foundation of the movie, establishing Michelle Yeoh’s character as a fierce woman not to be trifled with, after she winds up calling her husband and, much to the chagrin of the staff, ensuring he buys the hotel. It’s sharp, witty and cleverly-played, but is also somewhat of a social commentary by director Jon Chu, about the way Asian representation on the big screen has played out for years. Casual racism is a prevalent part of our society, so it’s pleasing when the situation is flipped on its head. 

Based on the popular novel by Kevin Kwan, Crazy Rich Asians (2018) follows Chinese-American economics professor Rachel Chu who’s been dating her boyfriend Nick Young for just over a year. Everything seems to be going well until she and her beau jet off to his home country of Singapore to attend the upcoming nuptials of his best friend. It’s then she learns Nick actually comes from an uber-wealthy ‘old-money’ sort of family, with a matriarch that’s hell bent on making sure Rachel doesn’t end up a part of it. It’s certainly not an original premise, the idea of a working-class woman from New York ending up with a proverbial prince from a far-away land. Neither is having his parents disapprove. In fact, almost every aspect of the storyline, from the wild bachelor party to the literal glow-up in her best friend’s bedroom, seems to have been recycled from rom-coms of the past. Including the overblown if not spectacularly-set ending. But where Crazy Rich Asians (2018) differs is in how it gets there. It’s about sacrifice, and as they say early in the film – playing to win instead of playing not to lose. 

The cinematography is gorgeous and, in a way, serves as metaphor for the film itself. Flashy and fashionable, but at the same time underpinned by heart and soul. Take the exquisite and endearing set piece of the central wedding, where guests are seated between reeds, the bride enters through flowing water and fireflies, and the soft melodic sounds of ‘Can’t help falling in love’ envelop the whole room. There’s never been a more glorious wedding march moment in the history of cinema. And yet, it’s not the supposed $40 million price tag that makes it great. It’s the short-but-sweet ‘I love you’s’ that are passed between our protagonist’s lips while it’s happening. Gold and opulence continually come second to the smaller moments, whether that be a family making hundreds of dumplings together with a method passed down through the generations, or two women bonding as they bury a dead fish. Wealth doesn’t buy happiness here, and the camera consistently reminds us of it, even when the dialogue doesn’t. 

As far as the acting goes, Constance Wu shines as the story’s leading lady Rachel Chu, playing her as both equal parts glamourous and down-to-earth. Not only is her performance refreshing for everyone that’s had enough of seeing blonde, breasty girl-next-door types plastered across theatre screens, but she brings an honesty and unpretentiousness to the tired rags-to-riches archetype. Main-man Henry Golding, meanwhile, provides a wonderful turn in what is hard to believe is his first feature film. The English-Malaysian model is dashing as the Bachelor-esque Nick Young, delivering just the right amount of charm and wit to make audiences swoon. Yeoh brings a brutality to the Tiger mom role of Eleanor, with her unpredictability one of the highlights of the piece. But the scene stealers among the cast are the comedic duo of Awkwafina and Nico Santos, with the former’s college friend Peik Lin Goh the main source of laughs, from her Ellen hair to ‘walk of shame’ car clothes. While the latter is the self-declared ‘rainbow sheep’ of the family, whose flounces and flourishes are a priceless addition to what could have been a run-of-the-mill movie.

At lot has been said about the film’s desire to showcase that minority-led films can be just as good as the mainstream blockbusters starring straight, white men and women. And quite frankly, it’s been a long time coming. I mean, statistics from just two years ago show that around only one per cent of lead roles went to Asian actors and actresses. And you’ll be hard pressed to find a review that doesn’t mention how the movie is the first Western-produced, Asian-led film since Memoirs of a Geisha (2005) and The Joy Luck Club (1993). It’s incomprehensible that films like these are still outliers. Especially when there are hundreds of thousands of people with the same background, ethnicity or skin-colour who should rightfully be able to see people like them on theatre screens. And it’s just not right to say it’s a money thing. Crazy Rich Asians (2018) has raked in more than $130 million at the box office and Black Panther (2018) ended up with a $1.3 billion run. Representation matters, plain and simple.

For me, the best bit about Crazy Rich Asians (2018) is the decision by the film’s creators to pass on a lucrative deal with Netflix. Not only were they reportedly offered a trilogy of movies and artistic licence but were practically guaranteed seven-figure contracts. And still they chose to go with a studio willing to give the film widespread cinematic distribution. They chose the integrity of the audience over their own personal gains. They chose to sacrifice things for themselves so that people around the world would be able to see Asian characters in a place they have every right to be seen in. Like Rachel, throwing away the winning tile in the movies climactic third-act Mah-jong game, they proved that you don’t always have to win to prove you’re the best. Sometimes it’s better to rise above.

​Rating: 4 Asian Ellens out of 5

19/07/2018 6:41pm

There’s a line in Marvel’s latest superhero blockbuster where leading man Scott Lang states, ‘Do you just add the word quantum in front of everything?’ It’s a tongue-in-cheek moment, of course, because that’s basically what watching Ant-Man and The Wasp (2018) feels like to those among us who don’t possess fancy science degrees. Following up his quirky MCU debut – full of miniaturised men, giant ants and a physics-for-dummies approach – was always going to be tricky for director Peyton Reed. I mean, his sequel is the first one fans have been delivered following the apocalyptic events of Avengers: Infinity War (2018). But instead of delivering another character-driven heist film full of heart, this time around we are given two-hours of technical jargon about quantum tunnels, tardigrades and molecular displacement. And while it’s never quite enough to dissuade a viewer from watching, it’s hard to argue that it’s the sort of movie the MCU needs right now. 

Set in a post Captain America: Civil War (2016) but pre-Avengers: Infinity War (2018) world, Ant-Man and the Wasp (2018) follows our pint-sized hero and his former friends Hope van Dyne and Hank Pym, as the trio attempt to bring back a long-lost family member from the quantum realm. Scott is just days away from the end of a two-year house arrest, imposed for his violation of the Sokovia Accords, when he receives a strange message from Hope’s mother and Hank’s wife, Janet van Dyne. Reconnecting with his former associates he finds out that despite her disappearance into the quantum realm 30 years ago, there may be a way to bring Janet back – thanks to the invention of a quantum tunnel. After powering the device up, the team hope to use Scott’s connection to find Janet’s coordinates and mount a rescue mission. But with their revolutionary work highly sought-after, there are plenty of people ready to sabotage our protagonist’s efforts, including a phasing woman known only as ‘ghost’, and a black-market technology dealer. And with the FBI keeping tabs on him, Scott is forced to make the hard decision whether to help his friends or protect his new life. 

Having stolen the show in his previous MCU outing, Paul Rudd seems to relish his return here, effortlessly stepping between the comedy, action and familial drama inherent to his character. Meanwhile, Evangeline Lily is finally given a meatier role, transforming into not just ‘the wasp’, but Marvel’s first co-billed leading lady. She is as tough and smart as the boys (sometimes more so) and it’s empowering to see that it is her emotional storyline that holds the picture together. The heroes are joined by veteran actor Michael Douglas, who provides a somewhat softer grumpy old man performance for the sequel, as well as a more grown-up Abby Ryder Fortson, melting hearts once again as the adorable and precocious Cassie Lang. But as with Ant-Man’s first outing it is Michael Pena’s Luis that steals the show with a hilarious expansion on his ‘storytelling scenes’ lending some much needed charm and charisma to the film. Similarly, Tip T.I. Harris and David Dastmalchian return as the fellow ‘Ex-Con’ workers Dave and Kurt, with the latter’s Baba Yaga moments a true masterpiece despite their fleeting nature.

The villains are far less impressive however, with Randall Park’s FBI Agent Jimmy Woo largely providing little more than a chuckle here and there, and Walter Goggins’ Sonny Burch unmemorable, annoying and unnecessary. The true depth comes in relative unknown Hannah John-Kamen’s Ava, a.k.a. Ghost. Desperate for a way to make her pain stop, she has real drive but remains human enough to know there are lines you cannot cross. She’s redeemable in her quest, if not a little misguided, but in a film chock-a-block full of characters, even she gets a little lost in the mix. One character that doesn’t though is the city of San Francisco, with its presence permeating throughout the movie. One chase sequence craftily utilises the city’s most famous street, while another shows the murderous nature of the seagulls from Fisherman’s Wharf. And who could forget how cool it is to see an 85-foot man swimming through the bay and emerging near a ferry in front of the Golden Gate Bridge.

Sadly, there’s a tonal shift of sorts from our last outing, with the movie leaning more towards the ‘lacklustre’ than the ‘inspiring’. You see, what made Ant-Man (2015) such a great Saturday night flick was that it built itself up as a comedy crime caper. The heist elements were fun, as were the brilliantly crafted action sequences, including the now iconic train scene, full of tiny crashes and a giant Thomas the Tank Engine. The joy was in the juxtaposition of the miniaturised world and the normal, not simply the dazzle of special effects. And perhaps that’s why Ant-Man and the Wasp (2018) feels so flat. The action is great, with Hot Wheels cars zooming down streets and a giant Hello Kitty Pez being flung through the air. But there’s fewer cuts to remind us of the extraordinary difference in statures. And for all the fun it delivers, it’s hard to shake the feeling that the scale and scope is simply lacking.  

At its heart Ant-Man and the Wasp (2018) is a solid sequel, providing plenty of laughs, action and gorgeous CGI effects. But having to follow on from the events of Marvel’s previous summer blockbuster outing, which broke new ground and plenty of hearts thanks to its cut-throat mentality, means it just does not rise to the MCU’s high standards. It’s a shame too, because it’s easy to see how well-received the film could have been prior to Avengers: Infinity War (2018). But in a post Thanos-snap world, it’s hard to care about anything that isn’t explosive, ground-breaking or 2019’s as-yet-untitled resolution. And while the mid-credits scene sets up the potential importance of the quantum realm for the upcoming instalment, the film itself is little more than a two-hour distraction while fans eagerly await new information. 

Rating: 3.5 Drumming Ants out of 5 

21/06/2018 11:33pm

Twenty-five years ago, everyone’s favourite chaotician Dr Ian Malcolm pointed out that the scientists who helped found Jurassic Park ‘were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, that they didn’t stop to think if they should’. It’s an ironic sentiment really, because it seems like it’s the one thing everyone at Universal studios failed to consider themselves before greedily opting to issue four more sequels. You see, while Steven Spielberg’s 1993 original is largely considered a cinematic classic, almost all of the follow-up films have left somewhat of a sour taste in fans' mouths. Firstly, there was The Lost World: Jurassic Park (1997), which while engaging was little more than frivolous fun. Then came Jurassic Park III (2001), a critical and commercial flop that included second-rate CGI and one of the most annoying ringtones ever put to screen. And what about 2015’s Jurassic World? Which was hailed a reinvention of the genre 20 years later but delivered… well… an almost scene-for-scene retelling of the original. And so, we come to the latest offering, Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom (2018), a film that serves as an entertaining ride, but once again, does little more than rehash the tried and true methods of old. Honestly, why does no-one ever listen to Malcolm?

Picking up three years after the crew’s dismal second attempt at a theme park, this time around we are brought news that Isla Nublar and its dino-inhabitants are about to go boom, thanks to a giant volcano (which, let’s be honest, was never so much as alluded to in any of the previous films). With a potential second extinction looming, one of John Hammond’s old colleagues, Mr Lockwood (who again, we haven’t really heard of until this point,) puts his hand up to fund a daring rescue effort to save nearly a dozen species. Recruiting Claire and Owen, under the guise of saving their old friend Blue, the velociraptor, it’s not long before everyone is back on the island and double crosses are springing left, right and centre. Oh, but they said they were going to save the dinosaurs and move them to a new sanctuary? They couldn’t possibly be scheming to sell them to the highest bidder as weapons or game animals, right? Well, those naive thoughts are from the days when the Jurassic series was innocent and pure. So once again it is up to our protagonists to thwart the evil wrongdoers, as a fantastic volcanic explosion, a newly modified monster and a third act set in a creepy mansion in the woods, rounds out the movie and provides about every cliché the action genre affords. 

Frankly, it’s frustrating to see the same formulaic dilemmas appear yet again, in a film that could arguably have been a break from tradition. We’ve got a new genetically-engineered dinosaur that – wait for it – causes huge problems for our main cast. Then there’s the ethics of whether man has the right to play God by saving or creating dinosaurs. We’ve got the geneticist who is willing to produce the monsters but needs some time to develop them. And let’s not forget the dangers of bringing the once extinct animals onto the mainland, let alone including a Tyrannosaurus Rex among them. Or what about having a child hide from the beasts in a small space that requires them to pull down a vertical hatch? Add in a dose of an underdog velociraptor saving the day from the bigger, badder foe, as well as characters such as the cute grandchild, hacker, and games keeper who takes trophies from his hunt, and I think we have pretty much covered every movie, right? Honestly, did the writers actually discuss the script? Because it's almost painful to see the studio repeat the mistakes of their past.

That’s not to say that the film doesn’t have its redeeming moments though, with the first half a relatively-convincing adventure flick, full of volcanoes and the same goofy and cute Claire and Owen dynamic we have come to know and love. Touching ‘documentary style’ footage of the former raptor keeper bonding with a young Blue will also warm even the coldest of reptilian hearts. And then there is the series most heart-breaking moment, as a lone brachiosaur tries valiantly to escape the oncoming explosion.  Amidst the chaos and confusion of the scene there is a profound sense of sadness, as director J.A. Bayona pays homage to fans of the original, before finally letting the series break free of its island constraints. But for all the social commentary and moving moments (a particularly noteworthy ‘nasty women’ comment springs to mind), there is just as many aspects that drag us back. In particular, a sloppy scene that presents the idea of cloning something other than a dinosaur, before relegating it to little more than the next logical step in genetics. Since when were dinosaurs (real, live, freaking dinosaurs) not enough for these films?

For the most part the acting is also solid, with Chris Pratt delivering the same charismatic turn as most of his post Parks and Recreation (2009 - 2015) roles. Bryce Dallas Howard gets a good run too, sans the high heels this time, while Rafe Spall and Toby Jones join the show as the stereotypical villains (what is it with Brits being devious?). Sadly, both deliver very little substance for their efforts. Justice Smith is by far the best of the new crop though, pitched as the comic relief, and is backed up by the tough-but-somewhat-forgettable Daniella Pineda. As for the child role (C’mon, what is a Jurassic movie without a kid? Am I right?), stepping into those shoes is actress Isabella Sermon, as the granddaughter of James Cromwell’s mysterious Mr Lockwood. She’s got the cutes, the accent and the attitude to stand alone and has made a decent mark in her first on-screen appearance. But for a film heralding the return of Dr Malcolm himself, it is downright criminal the lack of screen time Jeff Goldblum is given. Surely there was more he could do than sit in a courtroom, right? That’s like, I don’t know, having Oscar-nominee and Golden Globe award winning actress Laura Dern phone-in her role… oh wait… 

Perhaps the most frustrating part of Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom (2018), is that it’s legacy was one of enthralling, terrifying and awe-inspiring spectacle. Of moments of pure dread and once-extinct creatures that screamed to life. Elements that have slowly been sucked away by the franchise’s numerous chapters. Five instalments in and it’s hard to see how the series does little more than make us feel like we’ve been stomped all over. Going extinct might actually have been the answers to our problem. But, if there’s one shining light in the darkness it comes in the film’s closing moments, which while setting audiences up for yet another offering (a 2021 release has already been nailed down), finally suggests we could be given a fresh road to go down. 

Rating: 2 Fed-Up Malcolms out of 5

19/05/2018 5:25pm

***This review contains spoilers***

In last year’s final episode of Netflix’s controversial hit show 13 Reasons Why (2017), protagonist Clay Jensen remarked to his guidance counsellor Mr Porter that; ‘It has to get better, the way we treat each other and look out for each other’. A powerful and moving line at the time, the words spoke volumes about our attitude as a society. About the changes we need to make and the people we needed to become. But the show ended and time passed, leaving people to forgot the message. So much so, that when the much-hyped second season was rolled out Friday by the streaming giant, it appears to have disappeared completely. Settling in to marathon the 13-episode arc, what became apparent almost straight away was that everyone connected to Hannah’s story, and the horrendous acts perpetrated by those at Liberty High, also seem to have forgotten these words. Instead, drinking, drugs, guns and court cases, are just he start of more horrendous things to come. So, what exactly happened to the getting better?

Well, that’s kind of the point when it comes to telling this story. Because delivering #JusticeforHannah and for the other girls who ‘begged to be raped’, or showing that when you do the right thing evil is defeated, isn’t that easy. Simple truths and effortless wins are, quite frankly, not the society we live in. In case you hadn’t noticed, ours is the one where women must fight to be heard and not victimised. Where students are taught to barricade themselves in classrooms and are unsafe in their own school. Where people die from drug overdoses and it’s no more than a regular, nightly headline. It’s an endless fight. And it’s incredibly refreshing to find a series like 13 Reasons Why (2017), which is unafraid to shy away from the truth, however unpleasant it may be. Frustrating, complex and upsetting, the show’s second season is more realistic than the last, and maybe that’s why it is so easy to hate it at first. I know I did. Because when does it change? When do things start getting better? When does the underdog finally get to win? Well, for me, I think it is when we realise, as Mrs Baker states in this season's finale, that: ‘There are always more reasons why we should fight, then why we shouldn’t.’

The story picks up months after Hannah’s death and the subsequent fall-out from her tapes, with the first half of the season focusing largely on the students testifying in court. Despite having their words twisted against them, plenty of the crew, including Courtney, Tyler and Ryan, reveal their side to the story and, at times, even boldly stick up for their former classmate. Others like Marcus and Bryce continue to lie to protect themselves and their shiny reputations and futures. Midway in the plot begins to shift though, as Zach takes the stand and reveals details about a tryst he had with Hannah the summer before her death. His truth paints her in a different light, and is the first big instance where Clay and we the audience understand that our ideals of people are not always who they are. It’s a confusing mess, not least because it messes with the timeline. But because the writers try so hard to remind us that Hannah’s tapes were not the full story, they end up changing what made the first season so impressive - unspooling our idea of Hannah in the same way the defendant’s lawyer twists the blame back on her in court. Hannah’s truth is as important as the others, but all we are left with is a tarnished reputation and a smothered voice. Even more, as Hannah’s story unwinds, so does Clay’s opinion of her. And when the boy who loved her can’t even believe her, how are we supposed too? 

What this season does deliver though is monsters and they are lurking in every corner. Wisely, it is left up to us to decide who they are. Because for all the obvious rapists and thugs, there’s plenty more people who let the situation get to the extremes it did. From the mother who knew her son did horrible things to the father who just doesn’t care. Or the coach who turns a blind eye and is more concerned with wins than the safety of students at the school. Every character has their flaws. And so too does the story, with an in-cohesive plot creating little flow, unlike the constant terror of season one. Additionally it is frustrating to watch characters make the same mistakes over and over again with little moral gain. What’s clear is that with no novel to work off, the writers seem lost in a cacophony of themes rather than actions. And like Skye making pasta with Clay’s dad - sometimes the pieces just fail to stick. Season two just isn’t as good as the original, in almost every way possible. Mostly, because it’s hard to justify its existence. And a bit because Hannah is still in every breath of the series. But that’s the point – we don’t want to look deeper, as hard as it is to do. 

And what of the fears from professionals and critics who claimed the show was ‘dangerous’ because of its on-screen depiction of violent and traumatic events, including sexual assault and suicide? Well, those people will likely be just as angry this time around, with issues from drug addiction to gun violence integral parts to the narrative. If anything this season, where no glorification of suicide takes place, could be considered more dangerous than the last. Because for every rape victim trying not to be silences, there is a voice telling them no matter what ‘proper’ or ‘legal’ recourse they seek, ultimately society will fail them. I mean, one teen who raped at least three women is given little more than a slap on the wrist and a probationary stint from the courts. While the school, which overlooked the needs of its students and failed to provide sufficient protocols, fired the one person who was ready to generate meaningful change. And what’s so scary is that this actually happens in society. And if the kids watching this think that is the future waiting for them, they may there's no hope left.

But if this season has proven anything to me, it is that despite its flaws, it is important to put what’s uncomfortable on screen. And if people want to call me irresponsible for thinking Hannah’s suicide scene in season one is not only important, but crucial to effecting change, then so be it. Because our society has become afraid of our flaws and imperfections and it is literally killing people. We put others down to prop ourselves up. We pretend we don’t see problems so we don’t have to deal with them. We think making mistakes makes us weak. No other show has been criticised as heavily for simply telling the truth. And that’s because the truth hurts. People do commit suicide. Others take guns and walk into schools. And some die alone, needles in their arms and choking on their own vomit. And if we don’t talk about it, how the hell are we supposed to change it? It is brave and bold to do the right thing, and sadly, most of the time no-one has your back. But this show tells us that there is always someone that does. And we will keep fighting until everyone will. We won’t be passive. We won’t accept that this is just the way it is. As one 14-year-old Australian girl, who was bullied and harassed at school and tragically took her own life this year once wrote: ‘Speak, even if your voice shakes’.
 
If this story has raised issues for you, or you feel like you require crisis information and resources, please visit 13reasonswhy.info for help. 

Rating: 4 Polaroids out of 5