Martin Cuff Consulting

It pains me to say it, but Killers, starring Katherine Heigl and a buff Ashton Kutcher, feels like Mr. & Mrs. Smith Lite. It’s about a spy whose past catches up to him, much to the chagrin of his nerdy wife and her omnipresent parents. The Hollywood Reporter was withering, calling it “an action comedy that nearly renders the term an oxymoron.” That’s perhaps a tad harsh. But whilst it’s fun enough, the action scenes are good enough, the dialogue is sparkling enough, Catherine O’Hara is scene-stealing enough, it still feels like something’s missing. I fell asleep in the middle, which should perhaps be a clue.

Location-wise, the opening scenes take place in Nice in the south of France – a beautiful and underrated city that was once the site of my very own Blonde Ambition World Tour. (I shall not kiss and tell about this, so don’t ask.) Nice is still high on my “emigration planning” shortlist and it appears in movies nowhere near often enough. The rest is shot in that Southern movie debutante now well and truly established in society, Georgia. The town of Douglasville – allegedly “where Atlanta keeps its charm” – served for exteriors. And here’s a little known factoid; the same Douglasville was originally known as Skint Chestnut. Gotta love the naming habits of the semi-literate – though few can compete with SA’s very own desert town, Hotazel.

For a while I thought Roller Derby was a made-up sport, like Dodgeball, or Extreme Ping-Pong. Turns out there really is a competition where girls in short-shorts pummel the hell out of each while skooting round an indoor bike track on rollerskates. Who knew?! And the girls take on such rockin’ names too -  my favourite: Smashley Simpson. All this – the rules, the myths, the bruises – is marvellously evoked in Drew Barrymore’s directorial debut “Whip It!”

“Whip It” (so named after a killer move that’ll get the protagonist four valuable points on the scoreboard) stars the can-do-no-wrong Ellen Page as Bliss, a grunge-leaning teenager unhappily stuck in Bodeen, Texas, with a part-time job in the say-no-more Oink Joint, a postal mom (literally) who’s obsessed with beauty pageants and deportment, and a sweet-n-savvy best friend who’ll be on the first bus out after graduation. One fortuitous day Bliss stumbles upon Roller Derby and her life’s turned upside down. Sweet, funny and laden with friendship, it’s like a coming of age movie, but on wheels.

In spite of the strong Texas location, the production actually filmed in Detroit, no doubt taking advantage of Michigan tax breaks and the fact that warehouse space can be bought for a dollar an acre now there’s a recession.  To support the all-star cast of grrrrl-power, (Kirsten Wiig, Zoe Bell, Eve – awesome!), real roller girls were selected from local Michigan teams such as The Detroit Derby Girls, and The Grand Raggidy Roller Girls.

In Prince of Persia, Jake Gyllenhaal pulls off the tremendous feat of becoming at once both more butch and more femme. Shot in Morocco, the plot revolves around a regicidal Royal who – eschewing more time-tested methods of removing his royal rivals (eg poison, gutting, beheading etc.) – devises a really outraegously convoluted plot whereby he’ll declare war on an innocent country, steal a magical dagger from a princess, and turn back time to a pivotal moment when (boo hoo!) he should have been the future king. Jake sets out to stop him.

So: Ben Kingsley, as the baddie, eats the furniture, and Ms. Fields once again revives her recurring role as an undercover English princess – though quite how she ends up in that desert beneath that duvet is beyond me. But it’s Prince-Charmingly-haired Jake who’s the most perplexing: doe eyed and recently buffed, very early on in the film, those Deliverance words sprang unbidden into my mind: “He got a real purdy mouth ain’t he?”

After that, I couldn’t really concentrate.

Locations – or at least places – play a big part in Zombieland. Not least the fact that the characters are named after their all-American home towns, now lost to the Zombie apocalypse. The movie’s mostly a cross-country jaunt by a group of mis-matched travel companions, riding out the disaster and heading for Playland amusement park in Los Angeles where the youngest traveller had once had happier times.

I was interested to read though that the movie didn’t ever get as far as California; Playland actually filmed at the Valdosta, Georgia Wild Adventures Water & Theme Park. I also chuckled at the idea that the movie star mansion that features so grandly in the film, is not only NOT a Hollywood home – it’s an Atlanta mcMansion – it’s also for sale. Go ahead, gawk.

As for the movie – and taking into account my generally low-brow tastes when it comes to Zombie horror – I thought it rocked. Emma Stone exhibits a notable combination of beauty, vulnerability and grit, Woody Harrelson works his 501s quite nicely thank-you-very-much, and Jesse Eisenberg carries the film’s core role like a geeky super-hero. The plot is handled with aplomb and, on reflection, there’s an interesting subtext of loss that you don’t normally see in this kind of film. Especially a film this fun. Superior.

The immaculately-attired Members of an Egyptian Police Band find themselves stranded overnight in a lonely desert town in Israel. In spite of mutual suspicions, they are nevertheless taken in by a generous divorcee and the clientele of her drab little cafe.

With such a set up, virtually anything could have been made of this culture clash – I mean, it’s virtually Priscilla Queen of the Desert, only with less wigs and no ping-pong balls. Instead, The Band’s Visit is a slow, tender, almost melancholic unwrapping of heartache and humanity that doesn’t really go anywhere. To be honest, it doesn’t really need to. It’s sort of like a pause, a cinematic moment in which the gentle, fragile, still hopeful characters can take a deep intake of breath and reassess for a bit, before going on again with their unexceptional lives.

The Band’s Visit filmed in the town of Yeruham in the Negev Desert – although there’s very little effort made to create establishing shots or define location. It’s the back of beyond and that’s about that.

Iron Man 2. Hm. Where to start? Wasn’t it Dorothy Parker who said: “If you’ve nothing good to say about anyone, come sit by me…”

So in light of the above: considering IM1 was such a blast, IM2 felt strangely like an altogether smaller film. The wealthy playboy’s mega-birthday bash for instance seemed to involve about twenty extras and a dj playing tunes from an ipod under the stairs. Sam Rockwell’s still got fake tan on his hands. Samuel L Jackson phones in his performance. Mickey Rourke (below) is seriously scary in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with the movie. Terence Howard is missed missed missed. Need I go on?  Oh, and that waster Robert Downey Junior is so far back on my Naughty List, it’s gonna be coal for him for Christmas.

Oh, I guess I should come down off that fence and tell you what I really thought of it, right? It’s crap. And I mean that in a nice way.

The stand-out location is Monte Carlo, during the Monaco Grand Prix. That’s exciting enough. There’s some nice behind-the-scenes footage here.a

In Rachel Getting Married, Anne Hathaway plays Kym, an addict with a day-pass from Rehab who’s heading home for her sister’s musical, multi-cultural wedding. Kym is a bit of a nutter, and (with some reason) no one really trusts her or her fragile recovery. Her Mother’s a restrained and distant bitch, her Dad overcompensates wildly, and her sister Rachel’s finally had enough that her special weekend is being routinely hi-jacked by her self-absorbed sister. So it’s a laugh a minute, really (not). It could all have been mawkish and unpleasant but it’s surprisingly watchable and the scenes between Kym and her Mom (a much-missed Debra Winger) are pure electricity.

Rachel Getting Married filmed in and around Stamford, Connecticut which is really about it from the locations stand-point (the family home itself is on Westview Lane, but I can’t find much more about it online.) More interesting though is the production’s technique, which uses a combination of devices to get you in deep and dirty with the proceedings – including brash, jumpy handheld “home video” and shots that linger a little longer than normal and therefore feel more amateurish. With many-dimensional scenes, and numerous background characters present but not always identified, you’re encouraged to feel part of the party – especially during the painful, revealing rehearsal dinner where you dread that it might be your turn next to stand up and say something.

I’d have throttled the violinist though.

After all the pre-Oscar hype and the depressing Post-Oscar Jesse James fiasco, I finally got to see The Blind Side, on the Dubai-Cape Town flight back from Locations Trade Show. It wasn’t that I’d been avoiding the film, although the strong religious slant that saw it widely re-purposed for Church Sermons maybe made me a tad hesitant. It was more that I’m not at all interested in American Football. or Baseball. Or Nascar. Or any other American sport, if I’m honest. But in LA I’d had lunch with a charming lady from Alcon Entertainment, and with 10 hours to kill, I thought I’d give it a stab.

And what of it? Well I don’t mean to be damning with faint praise, but The Blind Side is indeed a nice enough film. There’s a good message (it really is better to give than to receive) and sweet outcomes and I really liked the fact that there was no obvious villain beyond society’s rather limited scope and expectations. It’s less about faith and football, and more about family. In truth it felt more like a really good Hallmark Channel movie than an Oscar contending super-pic, but with better production values and a star turn from Ms. Bullock. (having clearly taken good cogniscence of my production notes on ditching romantic lead roles, her performance as a Southern Mom is feisty and surprisingly nuanced.)

In spite of the strong Memphis, Tennessee story line, The Blind Side filmed in Georgia – with a good chunk of change for the film coming from the State’s aggressive incentive program. Interiors and some of the football field action was filmed at the International School, and The Westminster Schools in Atlanta, and with the film’s main Briarcrest Christian School location being played by the imposing Agnes Scott College, which is actually a girls school and therefore probably doesn’t prioritise football so much.

Clash of the Titans, that empty vessel of pomp and bombast, is worth a (2-D) watch, if only to see quite how uncomfy the Aussie brickie Sam Worthington actually looks in a miniskirt. (His face says he’s gonna throw up just a little, mate.) Which is quite funny. But the rest of the movie? Not so much. The script feels like some rushed and breathy presentation at a studio pitching session: “And then, they’ll run into giant scorpions, but they’ll be saved by some djinns, who’ll carry them across country to the three witches who….” blah blah blah. The stalwart Britpack of Thesps (I think I’ve discovered a new collective noun!) munch furniture, and there’s someone in the design team who really likes pointy talons/tails with stings on them.

Fortunately though, the locations are quite interesting. The gateway to Medusa’s lair was filmed at the charmingly named Harriet Hole at Dinorwic Slate Quarry in North Wales. Opened in 1787, it’s located between the villages of Llanberis and Dinorwig near Caernarfon, and in its day was the second largest slate quarry in the world. Pics of the production on location (including some bewildered camels) here.

The other stand out location is Teide National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site in Tenerife, and Timanfanya National Park in Lanzarote in the Canary Islands. (In a nod of thanks to the islands, the Spanish premier of the film was held there.) Most of the rest was done in studio.

A couple of random things. 1.) A couple of years back, I took a road trip through New Mexico. I thought it looked like the Klein Karoo. 2.) I read a short story book about Zombies while in LA. And 3.) I also just finished reading Cormac McCarthy’s bleak (and a little pointless?) book The Road about a road trip from hell. (I probably won’t watch the film now, thanks.)

So, aside from now planning to create a food and medicines stash in my basement, I was reminded of all of the above when I caught another little road movie called Carriers on the looonnng plane journey from LA to Dubai.

Carriers stars the rockin’ Chris Pine and the even more lovely Piper Perabo as a part of a mismatched foursome travelling through New Mexico in the aftermath of a vicious and extensive plague. Most folks have died nastily, and the increasingly desperate survivors battle to retain their humanity in the face of unspeakable choices. Christopher Meloni’s in it too, a Dad struggling to save his infected little girl.

It’s a small film really – it was apparently filmed back in 2006 and never released – but it’s creepy and disturbing and pretty convincing. Well filmed, well lit, well acted, it proved an uncomfortably enjoyably way to fill some of a 16 hour flight.