Captain Phillips

I have a hatred of Hanks which I find difficult to justify. Perhaps it his slightly nasal, whiny voice. Maybe that irritating eye-narrowing thing he does. Possibly his annoying everyman shtick. More likely it’s that batch of woeful romantic comedies he made with Meg Ryan in the mid-nineties. After all, I’ve occasionally chosen to overlook my Hanks hate – Forrest Gump, the first twenty minutes of Saving Private Ryan, childhood favourite Big. And so it was with Captain Phillips: a film which, despite its abysmal title, has received rave reviews and in which Tom Hanks gives possibly the best performance of his career.

The plot is a simple one: the eponymous Captain (Hanks) is piloting his cargo ship through international waters off the Horn of Africa when it is hijacked by a group of four Somali pirates. Phillips appeals for help from the authorities, but assistance fails to arrive in time to stop the armed raiders boarding the ship – leaving the noble captain to protect his unarmed crew and his boat.

Such a simple synopsis reveals nothing of the film, however. 

Tom Hanks is superb as a man out of his depth, forced to confront difficult decisions in the most difficult of circumstances. Initially he seems the archetypal company man, following protocol and playing it by the book. But as his captors become increasingly unpredictable, so Phillips’ actions become more inspired, courageous and innovative. He takes huge risks in the most prosaic ways – it’s only after leaving the cinema and reflecting on the movie that it becomes clear how just how risky some of his plays were.

At the other end of behavioural the spectrum is the pirates’ own captain. Muse (Barkhad Abdi) is desperate, bitter and emotional – a trembling, wide-eyed, wounded animal whose erratic nature is the antithesis of Phillips’ cool exterior. It’s a mesmerising performance from a first-timer who didn’t even meet Tom Hanks until their first on-screen confrontation. 

And what a confrontation it is. Sparks fly as the characters face off, with the threat of violence constantly simmering beneath the surface. There is mutual respect too, with moments of genuine compassion and humanity passing between the two – not least as Muse attempts to protect Phillips from some of the less sanguine pirates in his crew. 

As the film lurches towards a conclusion, the action becomes increasingly claustrophobic and the tension is almost unbearable. Barry Ackroyd’s photography is superb, placing the camera amidst the action as blood and sweat are spilled and violence threatens to erupt in the closest possible confines. Even knowing the true story which inspired the film doesn’t lessen the knuckle-whitening tension.

The final scenes are an acting tour-de-force: a visceral, powerfully emotional outpouring which offer an increasingly tense audience some kind of catharsis after one of the most gripping, tautly made movies of recent years.

THE IMDB TOP 50 CHALLENGE #28 Forrest Gump

Regular readers of this blog will be aware of my long-standing hatred of Tom Hanks. I hate his weaselly voice, his plasticine features and his piggy little eyes. I believe him to be a hugely limited actor and i’m astounded by the regard in which he’s held by audiences. And so it will be a surprise to many that, despite Hanks being on screen for almost every minute of the film’s running time, Forrest Gump is a film I have huge affection for.

For anyone unfamiliar with the story, Forrest Gump (Hanks) is a simple-minded soul with an IQ of 75. Growing up in Greenbow, Alabama, he’s cared for by his loving mother (Sally Field) and best friend Jenny (played as a grown-up by the lovely Robin Wright). Forrest singularly fails to understand the world around him, but engages with it sweetly and naively, his sense of innocence and wonder never diluted by age or experience. As he grows up, Forrest’s unique perspective opens up countless unlikely opportunities and he becomes a war hero, football star, self-help guru and businessman – but always returns to the love of his life: Jenny.

Perhaps Forrest Gump’s main asset is its relentlessly optimistic outlook. Funnelled through Forrest’s eyes, the world is a less cynical, warmer place. He sees the good in everyone – a characteristic which endears him to all, allows people to take advantage of him and drives the narrative by placing him at the centre of some of history’s biggest scandals. That’s not to say that Zemeckis’ movie is saccharine sweet: at times Forrest’s naive world view is the perfect vehicle for politicking – his view that the Vietnam War consisted largely of taking long walks and ‘looking for this guy named Charlie’ is endearingly idiotic but cuts to the heart of that most futile of conflicts.

Although it pains me to say it, Hanks is magnificent as Gump. He needs to be, as without his easy charm the film might easily fall down structurally. His story is told episodically as he sits on a park bench talking to the various people who take a seat next to him. His storytelling links each of the episodes effectively, with his captive audience mirroring the audience at home and allowing him to add context and embellishment to his remarkable tales. These tales may or may not be true. Director Robert Zemeckis wisely leaves the audience to decide how much truth or self deception there is within Forrest’s version of events but his lack of ego suggests that he really did do the things he claims – including teaching Elvis to dance and exposing Watergate.

Genuine footage of people like Richard Nixon, John Lennon and JFK is cut with newly minted film of Hanks and co, creating a montage of old and new which, whilst slightly unconvincing now, was at the cutting edge of special effects and editing on the film’s release in 1994. I remember seeing an interview in which Zemeckis talked about the budget of the film and revealed that it had cost a fortune – other than Gary Sinise losing his legs midway through, I’d hardly noticed any CGI or special effects at all, so consumed was I by the world he had created.

Impressively, despite Hank’s massive performance and the roll-call of famous figures on display, the show is almost stolen by two actors in supporting roles. Mykelti Williams is memorably charismatic as the displaced shrimp fisherman, Bubba. Serving in Nam with Forrest, his speech on the many ways you can cook the aquatic crustaceans is perhaps the most memorable dialogue in a film stuffed to the gills with recognisable lines and soundbites.

But Gary Sinise is even better as their commander, Lieutenant Dan. He’s a bug eyed, reptilian little man, but he’s a powerful actor whose jaded and embittered character is probably the most realistic in the film – and all the more likeable for providing such contrast to Forrest’s guileless persona. They’re a superb screen couple.

Forrest Gump is certainly not flawless. It’s overly long and would benefit from a prune – particularly around its baggy middle. But it’s a long time since Hollywood managed to make a warm hearted family film which stands the test of time and is almost universally loved. For now, it seems, family films have become either animations, Pirates of the Caribbean sequels or superhero flicks. It’s a shame, because when they’re made like this, they linger long in the memory.

THE IMDB TOP 50 CHALLENGE #41 Saving Private Ryan

Saving Private Ryan is not a great movie. There are many reasons for this: Tom Hanks is in it; the narrative is lumpen and sentimental; it is at least half an hour too long. But it contains that scene: the high-point of Steven Spielberg’s illustrious career and one of the most effective and affecting set-pieces ever staged. It’s the most famous and fabulous cinematic representation of warfare ever filmed: a heart-stopping, gut-wrenching tour-de-force which has never, and may never, be bettered.

Depicting the D-Day landings at Normandy, Spielberg opts to show the realities of war. Stripped of romanticism and ego, these soldiers shake, vomit and pray as they wait for the inevitable onslaught of German bullets which will greet their arrival on French shores. Filmed on shaky hand-held cameras, Spielberg positions the viewer directly amongst the troops in order to witness the horrors and realities of warfare close up.

The senseless massacre is captured magnificently as bullets zip through the air and rip into soldier’s flesh, pinging their way through metallic armour and knocking them to the ground. Some men are shot in the water as they attempt to swim for shore – clouds of dispersing blood signal their demise. The action is slowed down and speeded up, the sounds amplified: it’s an all out assault on the senses.

The truth of war is laid bare here: confusion reigns and death is commonplace. Some die quickly and peacefully, others in terrible agony. Spielberg seems determined to depict every eventuality as soldiers pick up their own lost limbs, push their intestines back into their stomachs and drag their mutilated comrades up the beach.

It’s not just decapitations and deaths which stir the senses. The landscape is brought vividly to life with explosions of sand, water and blood showering the characters and the camera. The garbled dialogue is forced to compete with the huge wall of sound created. As a result, words are missed and whole snatches of dialogue make little sense: yet another tool which places the audience amidst the carnage.

Apparently Spielberg storyboarded very little of the action, trusting instead that his instincts would provide him with the best available shots. It was a brave move but one which pays off handsomely: the lack of forward planning ensures an immediacy which replicates exactly the kind of hysteria and panic which those participating in the landings must have felt.

There is no glory in these scenes. For this, Spielberg deserves applause. It’s easy for filmmakers to create superhuman heroes in such circumstances. The director does no such thing. Rather, he shows his fellow Americans as fearful, fallible and even cruel: as burning Germans escape from a flame-filled building one soldier orders his comrades to ‘let them burn’ rather than shoot them. It’s brutally honest – although such sentiment is not evident throughout.

Instead, Spielberg does what he often does and lapses into mawkishness. An unnecessary opening scene hints that this may be the case – a wordless veteran visits a WWII graveyard with his whole family in tow in an attempt to tug the heartstrings so blatant that it’s reminiscent of James Cameron’s Titanic. Elsewhere, war’s hard edges are blunted by sentimentality.

But it’s an inherently sentimental storyline, based on the real events. Following the death of three brothers in the war, the US Army’s Chief of Staff is stirred by the tragic events and orders that a fourth brother, the titular Private James Ryan (Matt Damon) be returned to his grieving family. Following the landing at Omaha Beach, Captain John Miller (Tom Hanks) leads a team of eight men on a mission to find the missing Ryan.

Their efforts are predictably dramatic and eventful, but there’s little which hasn’t been done, and done better, in other war films. Although the platoon’s soldiers are not as one dimensional as might be expected, they are rather stereotypically drawn – despite some convincing performances from the likes of Ed Burns and Giovani Ribisi.

Perhaps Saving Private Ryan’s biggest strength is also its biggest problem: the opening scenes are impossible to follow. The predictable story which follows the nerve-shredding beach-landings cannot compete with the strength and intensity of the early drama. But, even if you turn it off after thirty minutes, you really must watch this movie.

THE IMDB TOP 50 CHALLENGE #46 Toy Story 3

The first Toy Story movie, released all the way back in 1995, was a game changer. After a renaissance in classic pen and ink animation (think The Lion King, Aladdin, Beauty and the Beast), Pixar gave the world its first bona-fide computer-generated blockbuster. In doing so, they also created some of the decade’s most memorable characters: gangling cowboy Woody (voiced by Tom Hanks) and interstellar action hero Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen).

The film was so successful that it rapidly became a franchise, spawning a sequel and giving rise to the behemoth that Pixar would become. And then, almost a generation since the original, along came the rapturously received threequel.

With Andy (Woody and Buzz’s owner) now seventeen and about to embark on college life, he clears out his old junk so his little sister can move into his vacated bedroom. Unable to part with his childhood toys, he takes Woody with him and decides to stash the rest of his erstwhile playmates in the attic – only for an entirely predictable misunderstanding to lead them to the Sunnyside Daycare centre.

Ruled with an iron grip by the extremely huggable Lotso (Ned Beatty), the centre seems an ideal destination for a bunch of unwanted toys desperate to be played with. But it transpires that the Sunnyside clientele are a bunch of violent, sticky fingered urchins intent on destroying and defacing every toy they ever play with. Lotso, of course, is complicit in this. His gang of creepy accomplices run the daycare centre like a gulag, bullying and imprisoning the likes of Mr Potato Head and Slinky against their will. And so the stage is set for a daring rescue, some acrobatic high-flying set-pieces, and a desperately sad back-story which explains Lotso’s embittered mind-set.

It goes without saying that the animation is first rate, the voice cast superb and the music wonderful – this is a Toy Story movie after all. But this third instalment has something extra – a genuine sense of danger. Not only are Lotso’s motley crew genuinely horrible, but the film’s climactic scenes place the ensemble in real peril. It’s dark stuff, but reflects the increased maturity of an audience who’ve grown up with these characters – an affinity which is milked for all it’s worth in the mawkish and sentimental closing scenes.