The Theory of Everything (2014)

The Theory of Everything (2014)

The Theory of Everything charts the romantic life of legendary physicist Stephen Hawking over a course of three decades. From his early days as a lazy yet brilliant student at Cambridge, through his diagnosis with ALS to his rise to fame as one of the pre-eminent scientists of the modern age.

Adapted by Anthony McCarten, the (mostly) true life tale is based on the memoir “Travelling to Infinity: My Life with Stephen” by Jane Wilde Hawking. Although some liberties are taken with the chronology and facts are gently warped to suit the emotional arc, The Theory of Everything positions itself as a fairly accurate account of Stephen and Janes married life. However, by crowbarring such a complicated and real relationship into a traditional biopic structure, it ultimately ends up as a plot we’ve seen many times before, but with a few added bells and whistles.

Placing the focus squarely on the relationship aspects, the film sadly glosses over much of Hawking’s achievements with perfunctory and shallow exposition. Likewise, large swathes of his academic career are ignored in favour of narrative simplicity. It makes for a smoother cinematic ride, but also robs the kitchen sink elements of legitimacy.

Still, this focus on the nitty gritty details of the marriage does lend the story an emotional edge and the central pairing make fine work with some genuinely tender moments. Eddie Redmayne portrays Hawking with grace and subtlety, showing the physical decline of the man with an impressive lack of flamboyance. Likewise, Felicity Jones lends an empathy and kindness to Jane, an impressive feat given the strangely underdeveloped role.

However for every tender moment there’s some hammy dialogue or overly soapy melodrama to distract from the genuine emotion. Many key plot points come across as mawkish rather than touching; an over reliance on faux “amateur” footage and invasive over the top orchestral swells seem lazy and manipulative.

James Marsh directs with unobtrusive finesse and adds a layer of gloss to a script that would probably be better suited for Saturday night on ITV. Meanwhile, the supporting cast try their best with some clichéd and caricatured roles, Charlie Cox coming off best as a kind natured church choirmaster who sparks up a sweet relationship with Jane. Elsewhere, Hawking’s parents are rendered as one dimensional pantomime bastards rather than rounded human beings, while Jane’s family and friends are conspicuous by their complete absence.

Ultimately then, The Theory of Everything isn’t quite successful. A by the numbers biopic, tailor made for awards season, it’s held together by a handful of genuinely tender moments thanks mostly to a pair of excellent performances at its core.

3/5

Birdman (2014)

Birdman (2014)

Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) follows the escalating struggles of washed up Hollywood star Riggan Thomson (Michael Keaton), and his seemingly doomed attempts to regain credibility by mounting an pompous Broadway show.

Pressure is present on all sides, particularly from narcissistic co-star Mike (Edward Norton) and his damaged, resentful daughter Sam (Emma Stone). As his mental state deteriorates Riggan is visited by the spectre of his most famous role, Birdman, and things get strange.strange.

Birdman is a departure for director Alejandro Gonzalez Iñárritu, turning away from his solemn yet powerful dramas 21 grams and Babel and creating something daring and new. The gamble has paid off, however, and what we have here is a surprisingly funny, heartfelt and quirky piece of cinema.

Filmed in what appears to be a single tracking shot, much like Hitchcock’s Rope, Iñárritu’s camera stalks his characters down subdued theatre corridors and lively New York streets, through trippy dream sequences and intimate emotional moments in one fluid move. It’s a technical blinder, and much of the kudos must be attributed to cinematographer extraordinaire Emmanuel Lubezki, who works magic with a tough gig: the long takes here make his work in Children of Men look like child’s play.

Of course it’s all trickery, pieced together seamlessly with brilliant editing, but with some takes lasting up to twenty minutes, the actors have nowhere to hide and it results in performances that are invested with genuine humanity and gritty realism.

At the centre of the maelstrom is Keaton, carrying the movie with a towering performance that affords him the opportunity to mine emotional depths he’s so rarely had chance to flaunt in his previous work. Thomson is a character lost at sea, failing to keep his head above water and blinded by his own hubris, unaware of who he is and what he’s supposed to be doing. It’s the performance of a lifetime and it would be a sin if the Oscars didn’t take notice.

Elsewhere, an impressive Emma Stone is open and real as Riggan’s damaged daughter while Edward Norton provides a sublime and frequently hilarious turn as the an arrogant and mildly insane actor.

While it could easily have been a simple black comedy about theatrical conceit, Birdman sidesteps expectations and metamorphosizes into something more affecting and poignant, with deep ruminations on the nature of celebrity, biting satire of Twitter/YouTube culture, the nature of art itself and an astute insight into a mind falling apart at the seams.

All together, Birdman is a delirious and quirky masterpiece, skilfully engineered and performed with heart and gusto. It’s so rare to find a film that makes you think, feel, laugh and cry all at once, but Birdman does that, and it does it in droves. This is what cinema is all about.

5/5

*originally written for Nouse